


It’s Not Uncommon for A Wizard’s Apprentice to Be Burdened with A Terrible Destiny

by AntagonizedPenguin



Series: How Best to Use a Sword [14]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A wizard goes on an epic quest with his boyfriend, BDSM, Breathplay, Choking, Collars, D/s relationship, Hair Loss, M/M, Pain Kink, Sadomasochism, Whipping, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntagonizedPenguin/pseuds/AntagonizedPenguin
Summary: Ignatius should have known this would happen someday. Not the coup that tore his home country in two, not that the princess would be held hostage, not even that he'd be the one who would be sent to rescue her. No, not that. He should have known that someday he'd have to leave his master, go off on his own and be the master of his own power. It was what wizards did, after all. Powerful ones especially.But he's not ready.At least he has Gus with him. At least he's not alone.





	1. It’s Not Uncommon for A Wizard’s Apprentice to Be Burdened with A Terrible Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't well send these two down south without letting us see what was up with them, could I? For readers who haven't read the rest of the series, that's okay, the first few paragraphs will summarize everything relevant for you. 
> 
> Most of the stuff that's in the tags starts in the second chapter, I decided to start with plot instead of sex for once. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I can’t do this. There’s no way I can do this.” 

Ronaldo put his hand on Ignatius’s shoulder, an expression meant to comfort. Ignatius wished it was actually comforting, but actually it just served to reaffirm that he was a pupil in need of comfort, and that Ronaldo was a mentor who comforted. “Don’t fret, lad. You can do it; no need to be nervous.” 

“I can’t, though.” Ignatius wasn’t nervous. He was very confident. He was very confident that he was going to mess up. He was very confident that he was going to mess up and get everyone killed. “I’m not qualified, Teacher. I’m not trained enough. Surely we can find someone else…”

“We cannot, and there is no time, Ignatius. I myself can vouch for how well you’ve been trained.” Ronaldo smiled sagaciously. He was very sagacious. Ignatius had always appreciated that about him. “You are more than qualified to rescue the princess.” 

After Ronaldo had taken them up north to help the mages fight the Sorcerer King—who was in the south, go figure—the queen had been deposed and her family killed, scattered and abducted. Ignatius couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, because if Ronaldo had been there, it might not have happened. But he knew it wasn’t his fault. He and Ronaldo couldn’t have known. It was the Sorcerer King’s fault for kidnapping Lord Hans and being all evil. Ignatius just wished they could have been there to help. 

But now he could help by rescuing Flora DiGorre, who was being held hostage by the new king. Someone had to do it and Ronaldo was too well-known a figure. Nobody would recognize Ignatius, though. He’d get second looks for being a northerner, but nobody would assume he was a wizard there to rescue the princess. 

“But…” Ignatius knew he was qualified, and he knew he was powerful. That wasn’t the problem. Or rather, it was the problem. “What if it happens again and you’re not there to help…”

“It won’t happen,” Ronaldo assured him. “You haven’t lost control of your powers in years, Ignatius.”

“But if I do it’d be dangerous,” Ignatius protested. Ronaldo wasn’t taking this seriously enough. Ignatius was very, very powerful. So much so that when his powers had manifested four years ago, he’d accidentally rewritten reality a little bit, created a few new species of tree that didn’t exist, destroyed a town and turned all its inhabitants into starlings, and then at lunchtime he’d run away to hide on top of a hill until Ronaldo had found him and taught him to control himself. 

Ronaldo was right that Ignatius had had control of his magic for years now. He was safe to be around. He was safe to be around and had been for years. He was safe to be around and had been for years but Ignatius wouldn’t be once he set out, because Ronaldo had forgotten something important. “This is the first time I’ve been away from you in all that time.” 

Ronaldo nodded. “I don’t keep your powers in check, Ignatius. You do and you know it. You could easily overpower me if you chose to.” He smiled. “Besides, Gus will be with you. And if nothing else, I know you won’t hurt him.” 

“I…” Ronaldo was right, and Ignatius blushed, forever embarrassed that Ronaldo had found out he’d started to sleep with his attendant. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without both of us?” he asked instead of addressing that. He’d never known Ronaldo not to have Gus with him. Gus did…most things for Ronaldo. 

Smiling wryly, Ronaldo tutted. “I took care of myself long before I had you two with me, Ignatius. Now, no more complaints. The prince is here and he needs to see you confident.” 

Ignatius wanted to remind Ronaldo that he didn’t know how to boil water without magic, but instead he turned around to face Franz DiGorre, who looked much older than he should. “My prince,” Ignatius said, bowing as he approached.

“Ignatius,” the prince said. He was holding his baby brother Donovan—not really a baby but Ignatius wasn’t sure how old he was—in his arms, who was fussing a bit. Franz’s companion and his two young servants were with him, hanging back a bit with his awesome dog, and so was Cordelia DeThane, his mother’s companion who’d managed to escape the uprising with Prince Donovan. She’d been there when Ronaldo, Gus and Ignatius had left Hawk’s Roost, and she looked so much more tired and she had back then, only a few months ago. “Thank you for doing this,” Franz continued. 

Ignatius nodded. He thought about saying it was no big deal, but it was. He also thought about telling Franz not to worry, but he would anyway. He couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound inane to him. So Ignatius just nodded seriously and said, “I won’t return without the princess, my prince.” 

Bouncing Donovan, who seemed to be—rather alarmingly—trying to climb somewhere that didn’t exist, Franz let out a sigh. “Don’t unnecessarily endanger your own life, Ignatius. But…save my sister. I need you to save her.” 

He sounded so broken and scared. Ignatius had known Franz, not as friends, but distantly, for several years. And he’d never sounded so small. Donovan looked up at Franz. “Fora?” he asked, voice wavering. 

“Yes, Ignatius is going to go get Flora for us.” 

“Iggus!” Donovan cried, raising his arms. “Yay!” 

Ignatius smiled at him. He’d known Ignatius since he was a newborn. Someday the prince would learn Ignatius’s name. Babies liked magic tricks, so Ignatius held out his hand and made a simple little apparition appear, a butterfly made of light. He’d done a million of them for the prince. It flew off and Donovan watched it go, just like every other time. 

“I will, my prince. Princes.” Ignatius said. He felt bad for him. Not for his prince, but for the person standing in front of him, the person who’d lost most of his family. And so even though Ignatius knew better, knew better than to promise anything, to make a promise he might not be able to keep, he nodded. “I’ll rescue her. I swear.”

“Thank you,” Franz whispered, lowering his head. He took a breath. “I can’t even offer you a reward. I don’t have anything.” 

“I don’t need a reward,” Ignatius said, not even sure why Franz would think that. “Rewards aren’t important. Lives are important.” 

Franz gave what might have been a smile on a happier person. “You’re right. Thank you, Ignatius. Good luck.” 

“Thank you, my prince.” Ignatius bowed, turned back to Ronaldo, who was having a quiet word with Gus. 

“Are you ready?” Ronaldo asked him. Gus looked worried, but he always did. 

“Yes, sir.” Ignatius tried to stand straight. “I’m ready.” 

“Go on, then. Return successful.” 

Ignatius swallowed, standing firm. Ronaldo believed in him. So did the prince. “We will.”

And that was that. Ignatius gestured for Gus to follow him, and started off down the road. They were off.

Or not really. Ignatius didn’t notice Lady Cordelia walking along with them until they were a good several metres down the road and out of Ronaldo and Franz’s hearing. Then she joined them, putting a hand on Ignatius’s arm. “Ignatius.” 

Ignatius made an effort not to jump. He honestly hadn’t noticed her, which considering he’d been trained to be sneaky a lifetime ago, he ought to have. “Yes, my lady?”

Cordelia looked at him a long moment. “Franz is a nice boy, even now. And he’s both traumatized and hopeful. So he won’t tell you this.” 

“Tell me what, my lady?” Ignatius asked, shifting a little closer to Gus. 

“Rescuing Flora is absolutely your top priority. Nothing must distract you from that.” 

“I understand, my lady,” Ignatius said. He wasn’t going to get distracted. 

Cordelia nodded. “But once she’s safe—once you’ve rescued Flora and assured her safety. There’s a second mission I need you to carry out before you leave Hawk’s Roost.” 

Ignatius gave Gus a look before turning back to Lady Cordelia. “What mission, my lady?” 

“After you’ve assured Flora’s safety, you are to kill Stephan Fyrhawk and his companion, Neville.” 

Ignatius blinked, feeling a stone settle into his stomach. “Kill…”

“The usurper cannot be permitted to keep sitting on the throne,” Cordelia explained. “The longer he does, the easier it will be for everyone to forget that he is not meant to be there. He must be killed, and quickly. So that order can be restored.” 

Ignatius looked at her, nodding slowly. She was right. She was right that someone had to kill the usurper. She was right that someone had to kill the usurper, but he was the wrong person to ask. “I’m not a killer,” he insisted. “I’m sorry, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia interrupted, “to ask something so terrible of you, Ignatius. But It has to be done. You have to do it—for the same reason that you must rescue Flora. You’re the only one who can, Ignatius. The prince and I are counting on you. Kyaine is counting on you.”

Ignatius started to repeat himself, to insist that he couldn’t do it, that she had to ask someone else, that it wasn’t…

Gus took his hand, squeezed it. 

Ignatius swallowed, tasting iron. And he nodded at Lady Cordelia. “Okay,” he told her. "I’ll do it. I’ll kill the usurper.” 

“And his companion,” Cordelia reminded Ignatius. “Neville is the dangerous one. He’s the one who killed the queen and king. You mustn’t forget to kill Neville as well.”

“That sounds more like revenge than justice,” Ignatius told her, quietly. She’d lost her family in the coup as well. Literally lost them—nobody knew where they were or if they were okay.

Cordelia gave Ignatius a dark smile. “There’s no reason why it can’t be both. Now get going.”

“Yes, my lady.” What else was Ignatius supposed to say?

“Good luck.” Cordelia gave a brisk nod and turned back to the gates of Three Hills, leaving them alone on the road.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Ignatius said to Gus, holding his hand. 

“You don’t have to,” Gus said, tugging Ignatius to get him moving. “I’m here with you. We’ll do it together.”

That made Ignatius feel better, so he focused on that, on how Gus grounded him, stabilized him. “You’re right. It’ll be nice…this is stupid. But even with everything it’ll be nice for it to be just the two of us for a while.” 

Gus nodded. “We don’t need to pretend. I think that will be good for both of us, won’t it…Iggy?” He squeezed Ignatius’s hand, a force that bordered on painful, not stopping until Ignatius winced. 

Ignatius nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, giving Gus a coy look. 

“Good.” Gus smiled fondly at him, easing up. “I have your collar in my bag. We’ll put it on you once we stop to eat.” 

“Okay.” Ignatius liked that idea, and it helped take his mind off the heavy purpose their trip had. 

Hand in hand, the two headed south, to rescue a princess and to kill a king.


	2. The Best Part of Being Alone Is that You Can Be Together the Way You Want to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In chapter 2, we actualize many of those tags on the story.

“Are you ready?”

Gus watched Ignatius take a breath, then nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

God, he was attractive. He had such nice eyes, such a soft face, such a gentle and welcoming expression. Ignatius was without question the most good-looking person Gus had ever met.

It had been a long day, and Gus just wanted to hit him until he cried. 

Reaching a hand up, Gus stroked Ignatius’s right cheek, smiling at Ignatius. “You’re so beautiful…”

Ignatius smiled back, quivering a little. Gus smacked him hard enough to turn his head. “Aren’t you going to thank me for the compliment?”

Ignatius kept his head turned. “Thank you, sir. You’re too kind. A-and thank you for the smack! It’s more than I deserve.” 

Gus nodded his agreement, then smacked Ignatius again, his hand stinging a bit. “Thank you!” Ignatius said, eyes closed. Gus hit him again, on the other cheek. “Thank you, sir!”

Just to even out the red marks on Ignatius’s face, Gus smacked him one last time. Then, once Ignatius had thanked him, he gave Ignatius a sharp shove to the chest, planting him on his ass on the dirt of their campsite. “Take my boots off.”

Ignatius—no, Iggy, he’d become Gus’s beloved Iggy the moment Gus had first smacked him—crawled forward, reached out for Gus’s bootlaces. Gus lifted his foot and put it on top of Iggy’s hand, and Iggy got the hint immediately—he was so smart—and planted both hands on the ground. Gus stepped on them, gently, keeping most of his weight on his heels, on the ground proper. He wasn’t in the mood to break any of Iggy’s bones—they’d only done that once and Gus hadn’t liked it much. With his hands kept out of the way, Iggy bent his neck farther and started undoing Gus’s laces with his teeth.

Gus watched him do it, feeling tall. The most powerful wizard in the world, grovelling at his feet, in desperate need of favour. It was a rush Gus never got used to. 

Iggy was practiced enough to make quick work of Gus’s boots, and Gus stepped out of them one at a time, freeing Iggy’s hands and letting him use those to take off his socks before standing in the grass in his bare feet. “The rest of my clothes,” Gus ordered. “You can use your hands, but only touch my clothes, not me.” 

“Yes, sir,” Iggy said with a rapid nod, eyes on Gus’s feet where they belonged. Gus had trained him very well the two years that they’d been together. Iggy started with Gus’s shirt, unlacing the top with his eyes down, tugging down the sleeves over Gus’s hands one at a time. Careful, diligent in his movements, but quick, efficient. 

Gus could have refused to lift his arms, made Iggy’s job harder. But he was feeling nice, generous tonight. So he lifted them over his head, letting Iggy raise his shirt, take it over Gus’s head and fold it, setting it aside. Then Iggy got down on his knees again, unlacing Gus’s pants deftly, loosening them enough that they were easily pulled down. Gus did Iggy the favour of stepping out of them, watching Iggy fold them, put them on top of the shirt. He was so beautiful. 

Iggy came back, carefully took off the bead bracelet Gus wore and put it on the pile, before reaching up to untie Gus’s loincloth. This was the easy part, just loosening the strip of fabric and letting it fall. Gus saw Iggy relax as he started, the hard part done. Which might have been why Iggy’s finger brushed Gus’s thigh as he did it. Iggy tensed, but knew better than to stop. He kept moving, untied the cloth, got it off Gus. He folded it. Put it aside, and sat there on his knees, looking at the grass, shame writ in the set of his shoulders, the red in his cheeks. 

Gus looked down at him, quiet as he decided what to do. Last time Iggy had messed this up, Gus had pretended not to notice, letting Iggy decide whether to own up to his mistake. He had—Gus had been so proud of him for that. 

This time, though, Gus decided not to put him through that—it had been hard for Iggy emotionally, and he’d ended up crying as he confessed. “Was it a difficult order to follow?”

“No, sir,” Iggy whispered.

Gus reached down and lifted Iggy’s head, looking into those pretty eyes. “If my orders are too hard for you, I need you to tell me, Iggy. I’ll give you easier ones. It wouldn’t be to punish you—it’s a failing of mine for being too strict, not yours for falling short.” He wanted Iggy to behave, but not to feel like he was being set up to fail. 

“No, sir,” Iggy repeated. “It was my fault. I got lazy. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

Gus sighed, giving a nod. “Okay. I trust you not to lie to me.” He trusted Iggy not to go too far. He liked—Gus loved to dominate and hurt Iggy so much, almost as much as he loved Iggy. But he only wanted to hurt Iggy in the ways and to the degree that Iggy wanted and liked to be hurt. Iggy needed this just as badly as Gus did. They just both had to be careful, and trust each other. 

And that was second nature to Gus. 

Iggy nodded, smiling with his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Gus smiled back. “Now. Tell me what kind of punishment you deserve for that mistake.”

Iggy didn’t answer for a moment, considering. He had a tendency to request punishments that were too much and he knew Gus wouldn’t let him do that. But he also knew not to make Gus wait, so after a moment he opened his mouth. “Thirty lashes.”

Gus snorted. “We’ll do fifteen.” Thirty was a bit much for a brush of the finger.

Iggy bit his tongue for a moment, but only a moment. “Twenty, sir?”

They maintained eye contact for a moment before Gus sighed. “You know I can’t say no to that face. Fine, twenty. Take off your clothes and go get the short whip.” 

Iggy blinked at the additional order, but he got up, carefully removing his clothes while Gus watched. He was muscular under his clothes, but lithe, strong, so strong. Even without his magic, Iggy was a powerful person. 

And he was all Gus’s to hurt. To mark. The fact that the only thing he kept on was a leather collar proved that. 

He folded his clothes and put them beside Gus’s, then stood straight and went over to their bags, digging through Gus’s for a minute. 

He returned, hard and quavering, a short bullwhip in his hand. Eyes on the ground, he handed it over to Gus with mild reverence. Gus took it, gave an experimental flick, snapping it into the air. Liking the sound, he nodded at Iggy. “Turn around, hands behind your head. Stand straight—if your knees hit the ground, I’ll stop.” It was a promise, not a threat. An assurance. A quick way out if Iggy needed it. 

“Yes, sir,” Iggy said, turning. He folded his hands behind his head, fingers lacing together. His back was straight, shoulders tense. 

Gus ran his free hand down Iggy’s back, smiling. Down, then up, brushing Iggy’s collar. A comfort gesture, for both of them. Then he stepped back, took a steadying breath, and raised the whip. 

The first strike went crosswise over Iggy’s shoulders. Iggy grunted but didn’t move beyond that. Gus kept going, the second, third, fourth strikes landing hard. He didn’t go easy on Iggy, struck with close to his full strength, because he knew Iggy could handle it, because he knew Iggy wanted it. The only reason Gus didn’t start and his total strength was so he could go harder near the end, because they both liked it that way. 

That, and there was a danger of getting tired. Whipping someone was hard work.

Gus moved lower for the fifth strike, the sixth and seventh, hitting the small of Iggy’s back, drawing blood from one of the upper strikes. The eighth strike got him a cry, but Iggy collected himself for the ninth, and let out only a small sound on the tenth. 

Gus took a short break, only a few seconds, to catch his breath, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest rising hard. Then he struck again, full strength now, eleventh, twelfth and thirteenth blows coming fast, hard, and making Iggy cry out in pain. 

Gus never made Iggy count his blows. He wanted Iggy to focus on the pain, on the feelings, on himself, not on a number. Gus worried about the number. He was the one in control. He was the one in control of Iggy, the one with the power, the strength. He was the one doing the hurting. When Iggy shouted under the fourteenth blow, the fifteenth, pain wracking his body and drawing out a sob, Gus shuddered in pleasure. That was him. Him doing that. 

Gus’s arm was sore but he kept going, working with it and through it, raining a sixteenth and seventeenth strike on Iggy with even more ferocity than before. His cock throbbed, untouched, desperate, the power driving him mad. Iggy’s cries, the tears Gus could see, the blood running down his back, all of it just…made Gus so horny. 

Iggy was shaking, his whole body trembling on the brink of collapse, but he took it, he took the eighteenth blow with straight knees, and the nineteenth and, with a cry of need from Gus, the twentieth.

Gus lowered his arm, covered in sweat, panting. But Iggy didn’t move, kept standing, shook his head without moving his hands. “P-please…”

“Iggy…”

“Five more,” Iggy whispered, begged. “Five more, please…I need…please, sir…”

Gus nodded, wiping his face. “Okay. Five more.” Iggy could do it. 

“Thank you…”

With a breath, Gus lifted the whip again, searching for somewhere on Iggy’s back untouched and not finding one. So be it. He struck in the centre, and Iggy cried out in delicious pain. Another strike, another cry. Gus was shaking almost as much as Iggy was, and with the next strike Iggy’s cry was mirrored in Gus, ecstasy given voice. Gus’s entire being throbbed with need as he joined Iggy in that place and hit him again, the two of them soaring on the feeling, on the togetherness. 

With the last stroke, Iggy let out a cracked sob and fell to his knees, and so did Gus with a heaving cry, dropping the whip onto the grass. He crawled forward, pulling Iggy to face him, the two of them panting together, clutching each other, holding each other. Tears and sweat streaked Iggy’s beautiful face, his eyes puffy, squeezed shut.

“Sir…” Iggy whispered, pressing closer to Gus, his dick leaking, twitching. 

“I know,” Gus panted, pressing his against Iggy’s, grabbing them both. Iggy came as soon as Gus’s hand touched him, sobbing as he buried his face in Gus’s shoulder. Gus only needed two strokes to follow him, resting on Iggy just as Iggy was resting on him. 

Gus helped Iggy sit, arms around his neck, staying away from his bleeding back, both of them recovering, sitting, breathing, being. Being together. This was how they were together, how they were closest. 

It was almost totally dark by the time Gus started to come down, and the sun had gone down entirely by the time Iggy opened his eyes again. “Are you happy, sir?”

“Yes, Iggy,” Gus promised, kissing Iggy’s eyes. “Very happy. Are you?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.” Gus smiled, released Iggy, hands moving to his shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Are you ready for me to take it away?”

“I can do it,” Iggy said. He always said that. 

“I know,” Gus told him, like he always did. Wizards like Iggy could heal themselves, they were the only magic practitioners who could. “But I gave it to you. I’ll take it away.”

Iggy smiled. “Okay. I’m ready, then, sir.”

Gus nodded, rubbing Iggy’s shoulders more firmly. And, tasting copper, Gus touched his own magic, pulling power from that bead bracelet on the pile of clothes, running it through himself, into Iggy, closing the wounds that he’d inflicted, leaving Iggy’s back covered in blood but unbroken. 

Iggy smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Gus hugged him. “I love you, Iggy. So much.” 

Arms wrapped around him. “I love you too, Gus.”

Gus nodded, and the two of them sat there for a while longer, holding each other. Then Gus let out a breath. “Let’s go clean up before all that blood dries.” 

“Yeah.” Ignatius nodded, and the two of them stood together, holding hands. “Thank you.”

Not just for tonight, Gus knew. Not just for this. Iggy always meant more than he said. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I know.” Ignatius started toward the river near their camp, tugging Gus to come along. “But I want to. Thank you.”

Gus smiled, went with him. He knew better than to reject that. “You’re welcome, Ignatius. Always.”

They went to clean up, and get ready for bed. They had another long day tomorrow.


	3. It’s Important to Make Sure You Stay Connected to the Things that Make You Feel Safe

Ignatius couldn’t help but be glad they were going south as the winter approached. It was chilly all the time now, and whatever tolerance to the cold he’d developed from being born and sort of raised up north—farther north than this, in fact—had vanished in his years living in Kyaine. He could only wear so much clothing before he started to waddle, and even that didn’t keep the cold away anyway. 

But it would be warmer in Hawk’s Roost. Still cold, but warmer. So that was good. Ignatius was wearing the knit hat and gloves that Gus had made for him last year, which were helping, and he was in the process of growing a beard for the winter to keep his face warm, which was going more slowly than Ignatius would like. 

Maybe he could devise a spell that would make it go faster.

Anyway, it was getting cold. “Maybe,” Gus said, as they walked, “we should try to stop at a roadside inn tonight instead of camping.” 

“I’m not sure if we can afford that, sir,” Ignatius said. They had money, but coin wasn’t endless. Carrying too much money was conspicuous. 

“You’re shivering,” Gus said. He smiled as Ignatius tried to stop doing that. “It’s only going to get colder at night.”

“I know, but…” There was no reason to waste money just because Ignatius was a baby. People camped in the winter all the time. 

“I’m shivering too.”

Oh. Ignatius nodded. “Okay. There should be one coming up in the next few kilometres. We can stop there.” He should have noticed that, he should have payed more attention to Gus instead of just his own discomfort.

Gus chuckled, rubbing Ignatius’s arm. “Good. A bed would be nice too.” 

“Yeah,” Ignatius agreed. He’d be happy to sleep in a bed with Gus. “And a bath.”

Gus nodded, hand sliding up to Ignatius’s neck, fingering his leather collar. Something else he’d made for Ignatius. “Do you want this on or off?” he asked. “If there are people.”

Ignatius was quiet a moment as they walked. He liked wearing his collar. It was comfortable, it was nice. He’d never worn it where anyone but Gus might see him with it on before. He’d never worn it for more than a few hours at a time before. He’d never called Gus ‘sir’ outside of their bedroom unless he could make it seem like a joke and he’d never followed an order of Gus’s in public without pretending he was annoyed by it. 

It wasn’t that Ignatius was embarrassed or ashamed of how he was with Gus. But neither of them wanted the assumptions and jokes and confusion that would come from Ignatius wearing a collar in public, and nor did either of them feel like it was fair to everyone else to go around displaying visible evidence of their sex lives where people were forced to see it who might rather not. 

Ignatius’s collar was a leather band with a small metal tag on the front with his name engraved on it. It wasn’t huge or garish and he could pretend it was an accessory if he had to, and a shirt or jacket with a high enough collar, like the one he was wearing now, hid it almost entirely. He could wear it like he was now and only he and Gus would know. And those were the only two people who needed to know. 

“I think…” Ignatius frowned, cutting himself off. He saw movement ahead of them. “There’s someone coming.”

People had passed them several times on the road, that was what happened on roads. It wasn’t a noteworthy thing in itself, but Ignatius wanted to wait until they were past before continuing the conversation. 

It was a family approaching them, two couples, one older than the other by a few decades, a girl Ignatius’s age and two younger boys, one being carried by the younger man. The younger woman was pregnant. 

Ignatius and Gus were still a number of days from the Kyainese border, but all of these people were southerners by their skin tone and dress. Northern Kyainese, maybe from the environs of Hawk’s Roost. What were they doing all the way up here, and with a pregnant lady? 

“Are you boys headed south?” the older man asked as they drew level. “Can’t say as I’d recommend that.”

“Because of the coup?” Gus responded, stopping. 

“That’s right,” the man said, nodding seriously. “It’s not safe—at least not if you’re going to the capital.”

“What’s going on in Hawk’s Roost?” Gus asked him. While he did that, Ignatius looked at the others, and especially at the younger boy in the other man’s arms. He looked half asleep, like he was sick. 

“King Stephan’s instituted a curfew,” the older lady explained. “No going out after dark. The guard’s been harsh in arresting anyone who protests his rule. And we hear they’re rounding up dissenters all around the kingdom, anyone still loyal to House DiGorre.” 

“So you’re heading north?”

“That’s right. Prince Franz is up north. Until he comes back and rights the whole thing, there’ll be no peace in Kyaine. You two’d best keep your business until after this is over too.”

“We can’t,” Ignatius told her, peering at the little boy now. There was blood in his hair. “What happened to him?”

“Hit his head a couple of days ago. We bandaged it,” the younger man said. “But…”

Ignatius nodded, reaching out to touch the boy’s head. He pulled energy from Fire and the fifth element, a healing spell. “We can’t keep our business,” he said as he healed the child. “We’re apprentices. Our master sent us down south to run an errand for him.”

“And what manner of errand is…” The older man stopped talking, watching as the boy lifted his head. “Rico?”

The boy smiled weakly. “Dad? My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“You’ll be okay,” Ignatius told him, and he made one of his little butterflies appear as a gift. The boy was a few years older than Donovan, but he was probably young enough to appreciate magic butterflies all the same. 

“You’re wizards,” the girl said, looking at Gus.

“He is,” Gus said. “I’m just his assistant.” 

“And what…errand is it that you two have to run right this minute?” the older man asked. 

Ignatius smiled, quickly checking the other boy, the pregnant woman, then everyone else. They were all tired and not well fed, but none of them were hurt. They were tired and scared and sad, and they needed more than anything someone to tell them it was going to be okay. Ignatius wanted to tell them it would be okay. Ignatius wanted to tell them it would be okay and they could go back home soon. Ignatius wanted to tell them it would be okay and they could go back home soon, but he couldn’t tell them that, because he didn’t know if it was true. “We can’t tell you that, I’m sorry.”

Ignatius had a feeling that they understood, though, and that was good enough. “Well,” said the older lady. “We’d best not hold you up on your errand. Let us give you something as thanks for healing our son.”

“No,” Ignatius said, shaking his head. He looked at Gus, who reached into his bag, pulled out their money and handed the pregnant woman a few coins. “Buy some food at the town up the road. Your children are hungry.” 

“Surely you need…”

“We’ll be fine,” Gus told her. “Take it.” 

“If you insist,” the older man said, sighing. “Good luck to you two on your errand.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gus said, nodding. And they parted ways, Gus and Ignatius heading south and the family north. 

“They didn’t have anything with them,” Ignatius said quietly as they walked. “No supplies or belongings or anything. They must have left in a hurry.” They must feel so unmoored, so unsafe. At least they had each other, though. 

“I hope they find somewhere to stay,” Gus said, and Ignatius nodded. 

“Sir?”

“What is it?”

“I think…I’d like to keep wearing my collar.” 

Gus smiled, putting his arm around Ignatius’s middle. “I’d like that too, Iggy.” 

And they kept going. With Gus’s arm around him, Ignatius didn’t feel as cold.


	4. Some Things Get Less Scary the More You Know about Them

“We’re nearing the border, right?” Ignatius asked suddenly. 

“I think so,” Gus told him. “If the map is right, we should be back in Kyaine in a day or two.” 

Gus wasn’t sure how he felt about that, honestly. He’d been born in Kyaine and never left it until Ronaldo had come north to speak with the people at the academy. But going back under the circumstances they were in was concerning. Not just because they were in danger, because of the coup and King Stephan. Not just because what they were going to have to do was going to be hard and dangerous in itself. 

But because of what Lady Cordelia had asked—ordered—Ignatius to do before they’d left. To rescue the princess was one thing, but to kill the king was a whole other issue. 

Because Gus knew Ignatius, and Ignatius wasn’t a killer. 

“Good,” Ignatius muttered, almost to himself. “We should start trying to figure out what we’re going to do once we get there.” 

“Yeah,” Gus agreed. “We’ll want to get a room in the city somewhere, and decide from there how to get into the castle. There are going to be servants’ entrances and stuff—I’ve used them before when I was delivering things for Ronaldo.” 

“If we go in one of those we might not be noticed,” Ignatius said. Gus watched him carefully, because he knew Ignatius, and he knew that Ignatius would start planning this and then worry himself about it. “I can disguise us as servants. Once we’re inside we should be able to get to the dungeon with no problem.” 

“And the guards?” Gus asked, because he had to ask, because Ignatius was going to try and figure out a way of doing this without hurting anyone and that was impossible. 

“We’ll have to put them to sleep or something,” Ignatius muttered, dodging the topic. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Gus sighed. It was early yet, and he couldn’t bring himself to upset Ignatius over this. “Yes, I can.” 

Ignatius could too, but he was afraid of using magic on other people. 

Ignatius nodded. “Then we can get the princess out, and you’ll take her into the city. And I’ll…” he trailed off, taking deeper breaths. 

Gus took his hand. “Let’s worry about that part later.” 

“But…”

“No. We’re not worrying about that now, Iggy.”

“Yes, sir,” Ignatius said, ducking his head. “I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t so…”

“Don’t. I don’t want you blaming yourself.” It wasn’t Ignatius’s fault that he’d been asked something unreasonable. 

Ignatius sighed heavily, walking closer to Gus. “Okay. I just…I know we have to do it. But killing someone…I don’t know how to do it.” 

“You just do it,” Gus said quietly, thinking of a woman named Esmerelda. “It’s not hard. The hard part is afterwards.” 

“What happens afterwards?”

“You get sick, usually. You’ll probably throw up. Then you start shaking and you can’t stop. And you get cold and you can’t warm up. You go into a sort of shock. Then you get really distant.” 

Ignatius squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Gus shook his head. “It gets better after a while. And it’s easier the second time.” Now he was thinking of a boy named Wendell. “And the third time it’s easier again.” An old man named Curtis. “And it gets easier every time until…you learn to stop being bothered by it.” 

Until he’d learned to stop learning their names. The bracelet on Gus’s wrist was really heavy. 

“Gus…” 

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” 

Ignatius shook his head. And he was right. It hadn’t been that long ago. “How many?” he asked. He’d never asked that before. 

Gus wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t lie to Ignatius. “Fourteen.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Gus shook his head. “It’s over now. And I’ll tell you what I learned.” 

“What’s that?” Ignatius asked, voice barely more than a whisper. 

“I used to think that killing someone made you less human. That you come out of it less than you were. That I wasn’t really human anymore.”

“Gus…”

“Shh. I realized that’s not true. It’s not killing that makes you less human. It’s when you think that it’s okay that it’s wrong. Sometimes you need to kill people, Ignatius. Sometimes you have to protect yourself. Sometimes someone is dangerous, or evil. Some people need to die. It’s not killing that’s wrong. It’s how you do it and why, and mostly it’s how you feel after. You’re going to feel so bad, after, Ignatius. And as much as I wish I could protect you from that, it’s the most important part.” 

“Okay,” Ignatius said, eyes shut. “Okay. Thank you, Gus.” 

“We’ll talk more about it when we get to Hawk’s Roost,” Gus said, looking up suddenly. He could taste salt. “Speaking of death.” 

“What?” Ignatius looked around, trying to see what Gus was tasting, but of course he couldn’t. 

“I think there’s a graveyard over that hill.” He looked at Ignatius and smiled. “Sorry. Can you wait here a minute?”

“No,” Ignatius said, shaking his head. His collar glinted in the sunlight. “I’ll come with you.” 

Gus snorted. “Disobeying an order, Iggy?”

“No, sir—it was a question, not an order.” 

“Cheeky little shit. Remind me to punish you later.” Gus kissed Ignatius’s hand. 

“With pleasure, sir.” 

“Come on, then,” Gus said, taking Ignatius off the road. They walked a short distance, up a hill. And sure enough, there was a plot of land at the bottom that was marked with a few hundred stones. “There must be a village down the road a bit farther.”

Ignatius nodded, walking with Gus. He’d never come with Gus for this. Usually he just waited somewhere on Gus’s orders. It didn’t take long. “Are there any ghosts?”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Gus said, looking around with his senses. He didn’t feel anything unusual. Just lots of power. They walked into the graveyard, between the stones, careful not to step on any of the graves just in case. “They take good care of it, that’s probably why. Or at least they take good care of the grounds.” 

“But not the rest of it?”

Gus smiled, didn’t say anything until they were in the middle of the graveyard. He sat down between two stones. “Stay back a few feet, okay?”

Ignatius nodded, hovering about ten feet back. Gus took a knife out of his bag, sitting crosslegged. “Hi, everyone,” he said, even though he was pretty sure there was nobody here. He looked through his bag as he spoke, pulling out a rusty old set of keys that Ignatius had bought for him last year. “I’m Gus. Looks like you guys are all having a nice rest. You’re not using any of this, right?”

Nobody answered him, so Gus smiled. He cut his palm, which he wouldn’t normally do because it was stupid, but it wouldn’t be a problem today. The pain made him gasp a little as it always did—Gus didn’t have nearly Ignatius’s tolerance for it. But with his palm bleeding, he put it flat down on the grass. “I’m just going to take it before it gets to be too much and people stop being able to sleep here. Trust me, you don’t want to end up as wraiths or poltergeists.” 

And so Gus drank in that power, consuming it all, pulling it into himself. And he swam in it, letting it fill him, letting it define him, holding it until it tasted like him instead of like salt, and then he poured it out, into the keys. All the power in the graveyard moved through Gus, made neuter and safe, and then stored safely in the receptacle. 

The whole thing took about ten minutes, and when he was done, Gus sighed, tired, and leaned back. He smiled at Ignatius. “Done.”

“It felt it,” Ignatius said, coming over and sitting beside him. He took Gus’s hand in his and healed the cut. 

“That’s why I never wanted you to watch me do it before,” Gus said, oddly embarrassed. “I knew you would.” 

All magic practitioners could do necromancy if they wanted to, after all. And that fact made them almost universally uncomfortable. 

Ignatius nodded. “People always say it feels like a taint. But it didn’t. It felt like water.”

“It’s like anything else. It feels bad if you do it wrong.” Gus frowned, remembering what they’d been talking about before. “Most other things, anyway.” 

They sat for a minute, enjoying the cool air. “You’re using the keys,” Ignatius said, looking at them. 

Gus nodded, picking them up. “They make a good receptacle. They’re dense and heavy, they’re made of metal, and they’re in several parts. The best ones always have more than one part to them.” 

“Why?”

“I don’t know. That’s just how it works.” Gus hefted the keys, feeling them. “They’re getting full.” Any receptacle could only hold so much power at once. 

“I should find you a new one.” 

“You don’t have to…”

Ignatius smiled, adjusting his hat. “I know. But I’d like to. We’re bound to pass more graveyards, and it’s dangerous for you not to have one.”

It was. Necromancy wasn’t like other powers. It could be stored, but it couldn’t be safely held onto for more than a few hours before it started to eat the user alive. Usually starting with their sanity. Gus liked his sanity. “I’d like that too.” 

Ignatius nodded, holding Gus’s hand in his. “Should we go?”

“Can we sit here for a bit?” Gus asked. “I know that’s a bit weird. Places like this...make me feel better. They’re calm.” 

“Okay.” Ignatius settled in, and Gus put the keys in the back pocket of his bag with his other receptacles. “Death doesn’t have to be scary and awful.”

“No” Gus agreed, looking around at the graves. He wondered about the people in them. “It doesn’t. It’s an important part of life. The world would end if nobody ever died.”

Ignatius nodded, and he moved closer, resting his head on Gus’s shoulder. “It’s making me feel better too,” he said.

“Good,” Gus whispered, as the two of them sat there, two living people surrounded by the dead. “Good.”


	5. Having a Supportive Partner Helps if you Tend to Beat Yourself up over Small Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of news that I'm going to share on all my stories is that with Tumblr's new adult content policy, I've decided not to continue posting the story there any longer. If you have a burning desire to interact with me on social media, there's a series [Discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/YaMctWq) server for chatting with me and other readers, my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/HBtUaSPenguin?lang=en) if you only want me in bite-sized chunks, and my [new blog](https://antagonizedpenguin.wordpress.com/) if you want an alternate way to read the chapters. And of course I'll still be posting here first and always! Thanks for all your support! 
> 
> With that said, here's Ignatius attempting body modification.

“Okay,” Ignatius said, determined. “I think I’ve got it.” 

Gus watched him work, fiddling idly with the old gauntlet Ignatius had bought for him in a junk shop. He was doing whatever he did to make it stop being just a gauntlet and turn into a receptacle for his power. Ignatius could feel that power just vaguely, a susurration on the back of his tongue. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ignatius repeated. He checked his notes again, the circle he’d drawn. “Yeah, this should work.” 

“You’ll have a bushy beard in no time.” 

Ignatius blushed. “Don’t tease. I don’t want a huge one or anything. Just enough to keep my face warm in the winter.” Lots of men grew beards in the winter. It wasn’t like it was strange. Even Ronaldo had one, though he wore it year-round and Ignatius was pretty sure it was more for fashion than anything else.

“Just a little bit of cute scruff,” Gus teased. “You know, most of us wait until we can just grow it normally.” 

Ignatius scowled. He could grow a beard normally. He was growing one now. It was just slow and it wasn’t keeping him as warm as he’d like. “Magic is a part of the natural world. It’s just as normal as hormones and glands. In fact, the spell is only meant to stimulate those things.”

“Like a healing spell,” Gus said. “Speeding up a natural process.”

“Exactly!” Ignatius was glad that Gus got that. He’d assumed Gus would—Gus was very smart. “Instead of it taking all winter.” 

“And then having to shave it off in the spring.” 

Ignatius nodded, setting his notebook down. “I…I should have asked. Can I grow a beard?”

Gus snickered, reaching over and patting Ignatius’s head. “Yes, you should have asked. But of course you can, Iggy. You know I’d never stop you doing something you really wanted.” 

Ignatius felt warm at that, nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Of course he’d known he didn’t need to ask for permission to do something to his own body. But at the same time, in Ignatius’s mind—no, in Iggy’s mind—it was Gus’s body as much as his own, because that was the way he wanted it.

“Are you going to do it now, or in the morning?”

They were staying in a small inn in a nice border town called Stirrup. Tomorrow they’d be crossing the Kyainese border, and Ignatius was nervous. But for tonight they were enjoying a quiet night in, sitting in the room and working. 

“I think I’ll do it now,” Ignatius said, looking down at his spell. “I have it figured out, may as well just do it.”

“Go ahead, then,” Gus said, putting his gauntlet down. 

“Are…you going to watch?” Ignatius asked, shifting on the floor. Suddenly he was uncomfortable.

“Sure. Go ahead, whenever you’re ready.”

Ignatius nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat, and he took in a breath through his nose, smelling sulfur and oil and a dozen other things that weren’t in the room, Wizardry was broken into five Base Elements that made up all the matter in the world, and through which all matter in the world could be manipulated. For this spell, Ignatius used the mysterious and confusing fifth element in conjunction with Earth and Water, which were the two best Elements for controlling a human body. He mixed the energies until they smelled right, and then nodded, taking in a deep breath. 

And he guided those energies, careful, so careful, not to overdo it, not to use any more power than was necessary. It was like extracting a drop of water from an ocean, the amount of his power he was using, and Ignatius was careful not to spill. 

The spell took effect, Ignatius’s face tingling as it worked. His whole body followed, the weird sensation spreading as the spell did. It felt like he might have accidentally stimulated growth across the rest of his body too, which meant Ignatius was likely to end up with hairier arms and legs too. Maybe even some chest hair, that wouldn’t be so bad. He tickled all over, and Ignatius took a deep breath, trying not to laugh. 

A moment later the spell’s effect passed, and Ignatius opened his eyes. “Did it work?” he asked Gus.

Gus was grinning. “Yeah, it did. You look like one of those big northern deer.”

“A moose?” Ignatius asked, laughing. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” He raised his hand, ran it through his new beard. It was thicker than he’d thought, and his hair had grown into his eyes. “This is great. Is the mirror somewhere? I want to see…” he took his hand out of his beard, frowning down at it as he did. His hand was covered in hair. “Uh…” More hair was falling as he watched, all over his hand, his lap.

“I think you’re shedding,” Gus said, getting closer and peering at Ignatius. 

“But…” That was clearly true, the growing piles of hair on Ignatius’s lap making it obvious. “Shit. No, no, no…”

He tried to fix it, tried to do the spell again, but he couldn’t focus enough and accidentally drew too much power, way too much, and had to back away from it before he fucked up even more. “Dammit…”

Ignatius couldn’t do anything but watch as all his hair fell out, even what he’d had before. And he sat there on the floor, completely bald and not knowing what he’d done wrong. “Why did…”

But Ignatius knew why. But Ignatius knew why this had happened. But Ignatius knew why this had happened and he should have known better than to do something so stupid. His power wasn’t for irresponsible or silly things. It was for things that mattered. He knew that, he did. ‘I just thought…”

“Hey,” Gus said, pulling Ignatius into a hug. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Ignatius couldn’t help but sniffle, then he started to cry. “No, it’s not. All I wanted was…”

“We’ll figure it out,” Gus promised, his arms strong around Ignatius, comforting. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Then we can fix it.”

Ignatius shook his head. “Not doing another spell. I should have known better. Should have known better than to waste my magic like that. So stupid, it was…”

“It was a harmless spell, Iggy. You’re allowed to do things for yourself sometimes.”

“And look what happens when I try.”

Gus sighed, pulled away, and he kissed Ignatius between the eyes. “Stop. It was just a mistake.”

Ignatius shook his head. “It was too much. I used too much power in the spell. I don’t have enough control over myself, Gus. I’m never going to.” 

“Of course you will. Don’t punish yourself over this.”

“But…”

“I said don’t.” Gus smiled. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to punish you, Iggy. And I’m not, right?”

Ignatius couldn’t meet his eye. “No, sir.”

“Then I guess you didn’t do anything wrong. Now stand up and take off your clothes.”

Ignatius blushed. “Yes, sir…” he said, preparing himself for humiliation. His hair would have fallen out everywhere. 

“We need to get all the hair out of your clothes so you don’t end up itching everywhere,” Gus said, helping Ignatius undress. Hair drifted down as Gus shook out Ignatius’s shirt. “I’ll have to wash these for you…”

“I can do it…it’s my fault they’re dirty.”

“I’ll do it,” Gus said firmly. “Come on, pants.”

Between them they got Ignatius totally undressed except for his collar, and Gus made him stand there while he brushed all the stray hairs off him. “Not a single strand left,” he muttered, running his hand over Ignatius’s pubic bone.

Unhappy but slightly less miserable than he had been, Ignatius shifted his weight. Mostly he was cold standing here naked, and having Gus inspecting him like this was…

“Hm,” Gus snorted, giving Ignatius a pinch on the head of his swelling dick. “I like you like this, Iggy. It’s cute. I might start having you stay totally bare. Just below the collar.”

Ignatius nodded, blushing harder. He could do that, if Gus wanted.

“Still sad?” Gus asked, wiping at wet spot on Ignatius’s cheek where he’d been crying.

Ignatius nodded again, sniffing and feeling like a baby. 

“Would a spanking make you feel better?”

A third nod. Being spanked always made him feel better when he messed up. 

“Go get on the bed.” Gus patted Iggy’s cheek with a warm smile. “I’m just going to sweep up all this hair and then I’ll join you.”

“Yes, sir,” Ignatius said, still feeling stupid. But at least Gus loved him. Knowing that made it hard to be too hard on himself. So he went and waited on the bed for Gus to join him. 

He did still wish he could have that beard, though.


	6. It's Normal for Anxiety to Build as You Get Closer to Your Goal

“This is less dangerous than I thought it would be,” Ignatius said as they walked. He was looking around, mostly behind them at the two soldiers they’d just passed on the road. They hadn’t given the two of them a glance except to answer Gus’s question about how much farther it was to the capital. “Not that I want it to be dangerous. I just kind of thought we’d be having to sneak around a lot more or something.” 

“We’ll be in more danger of that in Hawk’s Roost,” Gus told him. “People might recognize us there, especially you.” They were still a few days off from that. 

Ignatius frowned. “I’d think you’d be more obvious. You were the one who always went out to the markets and everything…”

Gus smiled. Ignatius wasn’t often so absent-minded, but the cold was distracting him. He was huddled up in his hat and scarf and gloves and coat, claiming that having no hair was making him colder all over. He hadn’t had enough leg hair to insulate his legs, but he’d insisted on wearing two pairs of socks anyway. “Maybe, but nobody really pays servants any mind. And you’re the one whose skin colour is completely different than everyone else’s, Iggy. Not to mention that your many layered defence against the cold is pretty distinctive.” 

Ignatius blushed a little, not that it was easy to see behind all his wrapping. “Oh yeah. I guess that’s true. So I’ll be careful when we get to the capital, then.” 

“I don’t think you need to worry overly,” Gus said, because he’d be worrying overly. “But be cautious. We won’t want to leave the inn too often until we’re ready to get into the castle. If it all goes well, we won’t be in the capital for more than a few days, maybe a week anyway.” 

“If all goes well,” Ignatius muttered. 

Gus reached out and took his hand, two layers of gloves in the way. “It’ll be fine. We’re both smart and powerful and competent people and Stephan Fyrhawk is a renowned idiot.”

“But…”

“And most importantly, we’re not going into this assuming that we’re going to fail, which would be setting us up to fail,” Gus added with a smile. “Right?”

“Right,” Ignatius said with a deep sigh. “Right. I’m just worried.”

“I know. And I won’t tell you not to be,” Gus said, kissing Ignatius’s cheek, or what part of his cheek he could reach. “But try and worry slightly less?”

“Okay, but…”

“To one side!” someone called behind them, and Gus pulled Ignatius to the side of the road, looking over and seeing a large, fancy carriage approaching, some guards out front. It was pulled by four horses and with a coachman in a fine uniform. 

“A noble,” Gus said, and Ignatius nodded. The guards eyed them but stayed on the road, and the carriage passed by them slowly. The sigil on the side was for House Fellendart, a castle with four towers on a yellow sky. “Going to the capital.” Gus wondered why a border lord would be visiting the capital during a time when they were a heartbeat or ten away from war.

“I wonder why,” Ignatius echoed, looking contemplative. 

“Let’s ask,” Gus said. Behind the big carriage was a smaller one, unmarked, probably carrying the lord’s stuff and servants. Gus waved at the driver. “Going to the capital?”

“That’s right. Not handing out rides,” the driver, also in a uniform, said down to them. 

Gus shook his head. “Not looking for a ride. Just curious.” 

“King’s holding a banquet,” the driver told them as they walked alongside the cart. “Invited all the nobility. I hear there’s even going to be one for regular folk, so you boys should make tracks if you’re headed there too.”

Gus smiled. That was very convenient. And very stupid. Stephan Fyrhawk must know that half the kingdom wanted him dead and he was inviting half the kingdom into his castle? What a dumbass. “Sounds fun.” 

The driver shrugged. “King wants us all to forget that we hate him. May as well take his food if he’s offering it.”

“I guess so. Thanks.”

“See you in the capital.” 

Gus waved at the driver, standing there with Ignatius until they were well past, then stepping back onto the paved road. “Interesting.” 

“That’s how we’ll get into the castle,” Ignatius said quietly. “There will be a lot of guards, but there will also be a lot of people going in and out and nobody’s going to know them all.” 

“Exactly,” Gus said, pleased. “And the city will be packed with people, so nobody’s going to notice us leaving with a little girl.” 

“Okay,” Ignatius said quietly, taking a breath. “That’s what we’ll do. God.”

“You okay?”

Ignatius nodded. “It just feels really real now. There’s a plan and everything. We’re really going to do it.” 

Gus nodded. “Well, we still need to work out the details.” Especially for the second thing, but Gus elected not to mention that for now. Ignatius knew. 

“Yeah. But it’s real now,” Ignatius said again. 

“Yeah, it is. It’ll be okay, Iggy.” 

“I know. I know it will be. I know it will be okay, Gus. I’m just…”

“Worried?”

Ignatius nodded. “Sorry. It’s hard not to be.”

“We’ve never done anything like this before,” Gus said. “It’s natural. But we’ll be fine, and you know why?”

“Because we’re smart, powerful and competent?”

“And together,” Gus finished. He was glad to hear Ignatius say it, though. 

Ignatius blushed. “And together,” he repeated. 

They walked together a few more minutes, slowly so they didn’t end up bumping into the back of the lord’s carriages later. “You know,” Gus said. “Something’s occurred to be about you being recognized.” 

“Yeah? I was thinking I could use an illusion spell, or…”

“I was thinking that anyone who might recognize you would remember you having hair,” Gus teased. “So you’re probably fine.”

“Gus!”

Gus laughed, and continued on the way to the capital, feeling confident that they’d succeed. They were together, after all.


	7. It's One Thing to Think You Can Trust Someone with Your Life, it's another Thing to Know it for Sure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iggy and Gus do some more intense BDSM.

“Are you sure?” Gus asked Ignatius, who was laying on the bed, looking up at him. 

Ignatius nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. Please?”

Gus still didn’t look convinced. “You got scared last time, remember?” 

He had. Ignatius remembered that, remembered getting scared and making Gus stop. He also remembered that he’d liked it right up until that part. “Maybe I won’t this time?”

Sighing, Gus stroked Ignatius’s arm, which Ignatius knew was more to comfort himself than to comfort Ignatius. “You know I don’t like scaring you.” 

“I know.” Ignatius knew that. He didn’t like it when Gus scared him either. He liked being controlled and hurt, but not scared. Ignatius was rarely scared when he was with Gus, because he trusted Gus to control and hurt him safely, and to do it because he loved Ignatius and knew what Ignatius needed. The only times Gus had ever scared Ignatius had been Ignatius’s own fault, for wanting to try something he hadn’t put enough thought into, or agreeing to something he didn’t really want because Gus wanted it. “I’ll try not to get scared, I promise.” 

“If you’re trying not to get scared, it’s because you are,” Gus said, hand pausing its trek down Ignatius’s arm as his voice turned stern. “Don’t you dare pretend to like something just because you think you should.” 

Ignatius reddened, but he made eye contact with Gus, something he rarely did. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t, Gus.” That was a recipe to get hurt for real, and they both knew it. 

“I…I know,” Gus sighed. He looked away. “I just can’t help worrying about you is all.” 

Ignatius nodded. He understood—it was Gus’s job to take care of him. And to make sure Ignatius only got hurt the right way. It must have been really hard. And last time they’d tried this, it had been Gus’s suggestion, something he’d wanted to do. “We don’t have to,” Ignatius said, since he didn’t want Gus to be upset. “If you don’t want to.” 

Gus looked down at Ignatius, the look in his eyes fond. He was quiet for a minute as he thought. Ignatius always liked watching him think—he got a very deep look in his eyes, like he was searching inside himself for an answer. “No,” he said after that minute. “We’ll give it a try.”

Ignatius felt his face split into a grin. “Thank you!”

“But,” Gus cautioned, hold up his other hand. “If you get scared again, that’s it. I won’t try it again, got it?”

Ignatius nodded seriously. “Okay. I understand. Sir.”

Gus nodded as well, and he stood up. “Sit up, take off your shirt, and lay back down. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

“Okay,” Ignatius said, and he sat up, watching Gus leave the room. He wasted no time in taking off his shirt and laying back, shivering a little in the chill, though the inn they were staying at was pretty warm. 

They were in Hawk’s Roost, and Ignatius was tense and stressed. They’d only gotten here a few hours ago, and already he was driving himself crazy thinking about what might happen. That was why he wanted this. He wanted something to distract him for a while, else he wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

And Gus was always there to help Ignatius distract himself. He knew that Ignatius was his own worst enemy.

Ignatius occupied himself while Gus was gone with trying to calm down, trying to mentally prepare for when he returned. He focused on letting himself be Iggy instead of Ignatius. He liked being Iggy so much more than he liked being Ignatius. Ignatius had people expecting a lot of him and he was powerful and knew royalty and had a quest to save a princess. Iggy just wanted to make Gus happy. It was so much easier. 

Gus came back a moment later, with no obvious reason why he’d left. It was because he’d been preparing himself mentally too, Iggy knew. “I’m back. Now lay down. Don’t talk.” 

Gus sat on the side of the bed as Iggy wriggled into a more comfortable position. Gus stroked Iggy’s chest for a moment, then undid Iggy’s pants, pushing them down enough to expose him. “My cute little Iggy,” he said softly. “My cute, bald little Iggy.” 

Iggy blushed. His hair still wasn’t growing back. He was starting to worry he’d done something permanent. Gus took Iggy’s dick in his hand, feeling it. “You’re going to masturbate,” he told Iggy, letting go. 

Iggy moved to comply, squeezing himself to hardness. It was easy with Gus’s hands on him.

That hand moved up now, resting for a second over his heart, feeling it beat. “A bit fast. Are you nervous?”

He couldn’t lie to Gus. Iggy nodded. 

Gus smiled. “I am too. I’m always nervous around you. Mostly because of the things you make me want to do to you.” 

Iggy shuddered as Gus moved his hand farther up. “Terrible, terrible things, Iggy,” Gus continued. “I want to hurt you, and break you, and you have no idea, no idea how hard it is not to do that every single day.” 

His hand came to rest on Iggy’s neck. They made eye contact, Iggy pleading quietly. “You know you deserve it, right?” Gus asked, as Iggy watched him, stroking himself. 

Iggy nodded. 

“Good.”

And Gus’s hand tightened, closing on Iggy’s throat. Iggy went as still as he could, fighting his natural instinct to struggle. He wanted this. He wanted Gus to hurt him. He wanted Gus to control him this way. He jerked himself harder, harder as his vision started to fuzz around the edges. 

Gus released Iggy, letting him gasp in a breath, then let him exhale it before squeezing again, with his fingers mostly on the sides of Iggy’s neck. “Your face is all red,” he told Iggy as he choked him, smiling benevolently as he prevented Iggy from breathing. “It’s cute. I wonder if we can make it turn blue.” 

Iggy made a little noise, grateful for Gus’s hand stopping him from vocalizing it. The pressure on his neck increased in response. “Be quiet,” Gus warned. “I don’t want to hear you, Iggy.” 

Iggy tried to nod, found it too hard to move his head, and settled for just jerking himself faster, resisting his body’s urge to panic. He trusted Gus. He knew Gus wouldn’t let him die. Despite himself, Iggy started to squirm a little, trying to get free as his throat started to really hurt, his chest trying to get some air and…

Gus let him go again and Iggy pulled in air as fast as he could, a rush lifting him. His vision was swimming as he breathed, the room spinning. Gus clamped down again before Iggy was done, cutting him off. “What would you do,” Gus said, to himself, “if I didn’t let go?”

Iggy shut his eyes, not making a sound as he kept jerking himself off. He was getting close already, after an embarrassingly short time. He knew Gus would let go, that was the trick. Gus knew how to push him, how to make him reach just past what he’d thought his limit was, but never too far. Iggy was, well, Ignatius was strong, he had more than enough magic in him to make Gus stop. Iggy didn’t need to use it, never even considered reaching for it because he never even considered that he wasn’t perfectly safe with Gus choking him until the room swam with black and Iggy started to forget where he was. 

Iggy’s chest wouldn’t move. He couldn’t feel much, but his chest wasn’t moving, and he had no air, he needed some air. Gus would give it to him when he was ready. Iggy could trust him, he could…

He really needed to breathe, and Gus wasn’t letting him. He needed, he needed…

Gus kissed him, lips demanding on Iggy’s. 

Iggy was going to die. Gus was going to…

Air came back into Iggy’s chest like an explosion, searing through him with the sharpness of a knife, and it made Iggy _fly_. He probably screamed but he didn’t notice, gasping in delicious breaths as he raised himself up from the bed, just enjoying the simple sensation of _breathing_.

He didn’t know how long it was before he recovered, but when he did, Iggy was laying in the bed with Gus sitting beside him, just like he had been when he’d started. He was covered in cum. “You didn’t get scared,” Gus said quietly. He was smiling. 

Iggy smiled back and shook his head. “No, sir. That was amazing.” He didn’t remember how that could have scared him the first time. It had been so _good_. 

Gus nodded. “Good. It was for me too. You made me soil my pants.”

“Sorry, sir,” Iggy said immediately. 

“It’s okay,” Gus said, kissing Iggy again. “I’ll punish you later.” 

“Punish me now?” Iggy asked, giggling. He was high, just a bit. “I can handle it. I want to go again.” 

Gus swatted his shoulder. “No. You’re going to lay there and recover. Not breathing for that long is dangerous and I don’t want you doing anything else until I’m sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“You always think you’re okay. That’s why I’m here,” Gus reminded him. “Just recover, Iggy.” 

Iggy relented, because Gus knew what he needed better than he himself did. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

“Does that mean we’ll do it again?”

“Yeah,” Gus said, stroking Iggy’s arm. “It does. I love you, Iggy.” 

“I love you too, sir,” Iggy said with a smile. He was tired all of the sudden. 

He’d forgotten all about whatever had been bothering him earlier.


	8. Home Is Where Your Memories Are, Or at Least the Ones You Care about

Gus loved Hawk’s Roost, he really did.

It wasn’t his hometown—he’d been born in a middling city called Gendan to the southeast of here, on the other side of the River Nyl—but it was his home. It was the only place he’d ever lived that had been a home. Gus hadn’t expected that when he’d come here, when he’d run away, hidden in an alley. It had seemed so big, so uncaring. It seemed like the right place for him to hide, to be nobody. To not be forced to kill people, to not have his natural talent for necromancy exploited for someone else’s gain.

Gus had never thought that he’d had any value beyond his ability to kill until he’d come to Hawk’s Roost. Until he’d run away from the person who’d told him that, and until he’d run into Ronaldo on the street one day and ended up with a job as his personal attendant. 

He knew, and had known at the time, that Ronaldo had been doing him a favour. He hadn’t really needed an attendant and still didn’t, but he’d seen a half-starved boy trying his best not to be real and had given him a purpose in life. 

Gus sighed. He was standing near the mouth of the alley where Ronaldo had found him all those years ago, just to see it. He came back here to the market quarter to see it sometimes, to remind himself. Right now, the alley was clear, dark, a shadow that might have been someone sleeping a little deeper within. 

_You look tired,_ Ronaldo had said to him. 

_They can get me when I sleep,_ was what Gus had answered. Those were the first things they’d ever said to each other. And they’d changed Gus’s life. 

It had taken Ronaldo several days of coming back to convince Gus to come back to his house, where Gus had been sure he’d be raped or murdered or eaten, but instead he’d just been fed and clothed and given a bed. 

Even when he’d told Ronaldo what he was Ronaldo had just smiled and asked if he wanted more stew. 

Gus shook his head, turning and walking away from the alley, back to the inn he’d left Ignatius in while he went out to buy supplies and hunt for information. The city bustled with activity, especially here in the market quarter, the new winter not bothering anyone as they went about their business. Preparations for the banquet were obvious everywhere—the public feast they’d been promised was happening for sure, there were decorations being put up for it and everyone was talking about it. The three major plazas leading up to the castle would host food for everyone. 

The sigil of House Fyrhawk was hanging on banners from most tall buildings. 

Bag heavy, Gus made his way through the crowds, just enjoying being back at home for a while. Even if it was for a dangerous reason, and even if it was only temporary. Even if it was everything that it was, he was still grateful to be back. Hawk’s Roost was Gus’s home, and he loved it. He felt more like himself today than he had in weeks. And this was probably the last time in quite a while that he’d be back here. 

The inn was out of the way and not the nicest establishment Gus had ever visited, but it was affordable and not likely to be visited by anyone who knew either of them—and it had rooms, which a good many inns in the city didn’t thanks to all the people coming for the banquet. Gus stepped inside, made his way up the rickety stairs to their room, where Ignatius waited for him. 

_Do I have to leave?_ Gus had asked Ronaldo when he’d brought Ignatius, quivering and crying and wearing one of Ronaldo’s coats, home. He’d been sure that the arrival of another boy meant that his time was done, that Ronaldo didn’t want him around anymore, that someone else would make Ronaldo’s coffee and do his laundry for him—things Gus had started doing because he’d had to do something other than let Ronaldo take care of him. 

But of course he hadn’t had to leave. _Of course not, Gus. You know that. I hope you’ll stay—I think Ignatius here could use a friend._

Gus hadn’t wanted to be Ignatius’s friend at first. He’d still felt like he was being replaced, like this little wizard would have more in common with Ronaldo than he could, like Ignatius was too much an intruder in his life for him to like.

He’d been so scared, Ignatius had. It had bothered Gus for a long time how he was scared all the time, until Gus had realized why it bothered him. 

_I’m afraid of myself too._ Once Gus had said that aloud, and to Ignatius, it had been the easiest thing in the world for them to become friends. And Gus’s life had changed again. He took care of Ignatius like he did Ronaldo, but he’d also found in him someone who was like him. Someone who knew he was dangerous and wanted desperately not to be. Ignatius had been someone he could talk to in a way he couldn’t to Ronaldo, someone who understood why he didn’t like to sleep and why sometimes he had to sit in a room by himself all day. Someone who understood why he had to work to make himself feel better. 

Smiling to himself as he thought of those early years, Gus opened the door to their small room and went inside, intending to ask Ignatius if he remembered the time they’d turned Ronaldo’s sitting room into a fort so they could stay in bed all day.

But there was someone in the room with Ignatius, and Gus stopped, looking at him. He was an easterner by the looks of him, curly hair falling to the sides of his face, pronounced teeth and hunched demeanour making him look like a rodent. “Who are you?” Gus demanded. 

Ignatius stood up, body tense in a way that suggested he was hiding nerves. “Gus. This is Jorge. He’s a wizard—he’s the one the Circle sent to replace Ronaldo as Stephan’s advisor.” 

Gus dropped his bag, kicking the door shut behind him. “You’re one of the usurper’s advisors.” 

“No, no.” Jorge said, holding out his hands. “Not at all. I mean, yes, but not like that. I’m not on his side, you see.” 

“How did you know we were here?” Gus demanded. 

“Gus, don’t be rude,” Ignatius implored.

Gus smiled. One of them had to be rude. 

“Ah. Well, you see, I’m in the habit of checking to see if there are other wizards in the city,” Jorge lied. He wasn’t very good at it. “And Ignatius here is very powerful. He stood out pretty clearly.” He offered a smile, as if that would make it better that he wasn’t telling the truth. 

“You’re expecting other wizards, aren’t you?” Gus asked, wanting to join Ignatius, but preferring to keep Jorge surrounded. Ignatius nodded just slightly, as if he’d come to that conclusion too. He was nicer than Gus, but he was also very smart. He’d probably been waiting for Gus to return before he confronted Jorge about it. 

If anything, Gus was glad for this. Having to deal with this on his own at first would have helped Ignatius to remember not to be so nervous. He knew what he was doing. 

Jorge blinked. “Well…yes. Hans DiFueure, you see. He has two with him.” 

“He’s on his way to the capital with an army,” Ignatius told Gus from behind Jorge. “The king is very worried about it.”

“When will he be here?” Gus asked.

“It’ll be a while,” Ignatius said. “We have time.”

“Time to do…” Jorge asked. But didn’t really ask.

“You said you’re not on the king’s side?” Gus asked. “Why is that? It’s the Circle’s position to support the crown.” 

“We do support the crown. The reigning monarch of Kyaine is in Pelican Bay at the moment.” Jorge smiled. 

“Lady Maria had her baby, seems like,” Ignatius said. “She’s staying with a wizard up in Pelican Bay. Martin Scouroak—we’ve met him, once.”

Gus vaguely remembered the northern wizard coming to visit Ronaldo a year or so back. “Good. I’m glad she got away.”

“Jorge was just about to tell me how he can help us get into the castle,” Ignatius said.

The look on Jorge’s face said he’d not been about to do that, but he smiled obsequiously. “Of course, I don’t know what your plans are just yet. I think Ignatius was about to tell me…”

“Our plans are to get inside the castle,” Gus said flatly. “Which I’m sure Ignatius told you.”

“Of course. As an apprentice, it does fall to you to work under the supervision of a trained wizard,” Jorge said, turning away from Gus. “I am the only one in Hawk’s Roost at the moment, so…”

“We’re working under Master Ronaldo’s supervision,” Ignatius said, tone pleasant. “And at the direct order of Prince Franz.”

“I…”

“We need to get into the castle, Jorge,” Ignatius said. “Tell us how.” 

_I’m sorry,_ Ignatius had said to Gus one day, after a few years. _But I love you._ And he’d changed Gus’s life again.

Gus loved him too, and he was reminded of it every time Ignatius breathed. 

Jorge looked between them, as if suddenly aware he was trapped. “I…I can sneak you in as servants during the banquet,” he said, looking at the floor. “It won’t be hard.”

“Good,” Gus said. “You know where to find us, then.”

“I’ll send you a message the day before,” Jorge said, nodding quickly. “And arrange the appropriate clothing and such.”

“Thank you.” Gus moved aside, unblocking the door. 

Jorge scurried to it, pulling it open. 

“Thanks for finding us, Jorge,” Ignatius said, smiling his brightest smile. “I’m really glad to have your help.” 

“Yes, of course,” Jorge said, fleeing the room. 

Gus shut the door again, and chuckled, coming over to hold Ignatius by the arms. “There he is. My terrifying boy. I was wondering when I’d see him again.”

Ignatius shrugged, but not hard enough to have Gus let him go. “I was reared in an organized crime syndicate. It helped that my muscle showed up at the last minute.”

Gus chuckled. “Someday I want to be the one with the scary ‘I’ll kill you’ smile and you can be the muscle.” 

“Next time,” Ignatius promised, kissing Gus. “So I guess we’re not using the banquet as cover. Seems to obvious that Jorge is planning to trap us.”

“Yeah. We could use it to get into the castle, but I think the actual rescue will have to be a few days after. Who do you think he’s working for? Hans?” The dead queen’s brother by law had a lot of pull. He’d disappeared a while ago, but if he was back with an army, that was probably who was going to end up on the throne after they killed Stephan. At least until someone from the main DiGorre family showed up. If they showed up. 

If Hans let them. Gus wasn’t even tempted to suggest they could leave Flora here in his care. That was just a bad idea. 

“Probably. I think he’s telling the truth about not being on Stephan’s side. But scanning the city for wizards? That’s not a normal thing to do.” Ignatius considered a moment. He seemed so much more like himself than he had lately. “We’ll probably learn more at the banquet itself.” 

“Yeah, and that’s in a few days,” Gus said. He sat with Ignatius on the bed. “What do you want to do until then?”

“Sleep?”

Gus snorted. “Sure. I was thinking on the way back. Remember how neither of us would when we were younger?”

“Yeah,” Ignatius said, nodding. “I do. We were both too afraid. We’d stay up all night telling each other stories to stay awake.”

“It even worked sometimes.” 

“Ronaldo used to get so annoyed—sorry, cross—with us,” Ignatius said, laughing to himself. “Remember the time we turned his sitting room into a fort? God, I’m surprised he didn’t put us out on the street.” 

“He didn’t put you out when you turned his loincloth into a bat—while he was wearing it.” Gus reminded him. “Or me when I accidentally poisoned him. I think he’s a little softer on us than he likes to pretend.”

“I think so too,” Ignatius said, resting his head on Gus’s shoulder. “You know…I’m happy to be back in Hawk’s Roost. Even if it’s for this. Even if it’s just for a while. I’m happy to be back home. I feel like…I was so nervous to get here. But I feel better now that we are. I feel like myself again.”

“Me too.” Gus put his arm around Ignatius. “And I’m happy to be back here with you.”

“Yeah. I love you, Gus.”

“I love you too. More than anything, Ignatius.”

It may just have been a cheap inn, and it may have only been for a while and for a dark reason, but the two of them sat there together, happy to be home.


	9. It's a Series of Small Things that Make up the Larger Picture

Ignatius was very good at being sneaky. 

He’d grown up being trained as a thief and a spy by someone who’d had need for thieves and spies, so he really knew all about being subtle and stealthy and silent and various other adjectives that began with that sound. He sometimes wondered, if his powers hadn’t manifested and he hadn’t run away from his assignment to avoid killing everyone around him, if Ronaldo hadn’t found him on that hill and taken him in, if his life had gone differently, whether he’d still be that person. 

Probably. His brothers and sisters still were, the ones he knew how to contact. He’d met Jacob in the capital and he and Roberta were both still working for Dominic. Pax had apparently run off to sail a boat, which honestly was the sort of thing he’d do. He was pretty sure that Cyrus was out in the Fury Plateau somewhere, where he was undoubtedly sticking out, and he knew Callie was in Aergyre. The other three he had no idea where they were, and neither had Jacob.

Pax excluded, it seemed like Ignatius was the only one who’d quit. And he felt a bit shitty about that, but he was kind of too busy being a wizard and trying not to turn cities into starlight to be too upset that he didn’t get to break into people’s houses at night. 

Still, his skills came in handy sometimes. Like now, when he’d used them to sneak himself and Gus into Stephan Fyrhawk’s house. Sneaking into a house didn’t change just because the house was a castle. As promised, Jorge had arranged clothes for them, looking just like the castle livery but, Gus had noticed, with the buttons slightly wrong. He’d fixed that for them before they’d gone in, and then Ignatius had cast some illusion spells on them—powerful but subtle ones, that wouldn’t be easily detectable unless someone really looked hard. Ignatius was quite sure that Jorge couldn’t look hard enough to see through it. He wasn’t powerful enough. And though there were tons of guards—near the walls, on the doors, either side, patrolling the halls—none of them had magic. 

Ignatius had sent a message to Ronaldo once they’d gotten to Hawk’s Roost, but he hadn’t sent another to tell him about Jorge—he didn’t really know that Jorge was working for Hans, after all. 

Either way, they were here at the banquet, both looking like ordinary servants, and Ignatius especially like a southerner. He’d even given himself a neatly trimmed illusory beard, just because he could. 

He’d been hoping there would be an opportunity for him to talk to Flora, to tell her they’d be rescuing her in a few days. She didn’t seem worried or scared; if anything, in the glimpses Ignatius had caught of her throughout the evening, she just seemed a bit bored. She wasn’t locked up and nobody was guarding her, she was just here at the banquet like anyone else. Rumour around the city was that Stephan had agreed to let her leave on the condition that Franz surrendered, but that wasn’t going to happen, so the rescue was still Ignatius’s top priority. 

But he hadn’t had the chance to speak with the princess, or even get near her. She was talking to Stephan Fyrhawk right now, and she seemed fine. He was about Ignatius’s age, whip-thin and tired looking. He didn’t look like a king, but then, Ignatius had only eve met one king and it had been Flora’s father. 

He was the same age as Ignatius, and Ignatius was going to kill him. 

_I don’t want this power,_ he’d said once to Ronaldo. _All it does is hurt people._

_Not so, young man. You can use it to help just as readily as to harm._

But he couldn’t think about that right now, moving through the room like he was supposed to, holding a tray of wineglasses for people to take. It was harder than it seemed—if too many glasses got taken from one side, the tray got unbalanced and harder to hold up. Ignatius had never done this before, but he was graceful enough to pull it off. He hadn’t doused anyone in wine yet, at least. That might accidentally draw some attention to him.

As he moved, Ignatius had managed to hear little tidbits of information here and there. Nothing too important, but some of it was encouraging. “You don’t really think he’s going to let that poor girl go, do you?” a noblewoman asked the man she was with, not looking at Ignatius as she took a glass of wine from his tray. “He’s only using her to lure the prince into doing something stupid.” 

“I don’t think our dear king has it in him to carry out that much deception, to be honest,” the man laughed. 

Ignatius moved past them quietly. Stephan not being very smart was a pretty common theme, he’d noticed. He couldn’t imagine it was as true as people wanted it to be—he’d been the queen’s military advisor, he ran a large noble house with a lot of connections and trade commitments, and he’d staged a coup even if he’d been backed by a lot of advisors to do it. He couldn’t be that stupid. 

“Honestly he’s not a bad king, is he?” one older man from a western house was saying. “I mean, the circumstances of his coronation…but it’s not as though the boy’s a dictator.” 

He’d heard that one a few times too. A lot of people didn’t seem to find Stephan very threatening, or even very offensive, as if killing the queen and her family wasn’t reason enough to dislike him. It was like Cordelia had said—the longer nothing was done, the easier it would be for people not to do anything. 

Flora had escaped from the king and was heading, albeit slowly, towards the doors. If she left the hall…Ignatius started to head, also slowly, that way as well. 

“You can’t leave with all that wine,” Gus said, intercepting Ignatius after a few steps. He’d seen the same thing. “Get rid of it and then find a way to leave. I’ll go after her.” 

“Okay,” Ignatius said, frowning at the wine on his platter. Who even needed this much wine?

They split apart, Ignatius heading for a table and aiming to pass as many people without wineglasses in their hands as he could. Gus would talk to Flora, but he hoped he could as well.

Jorge brushed past Ignatius, a glance at his buttons. He ignored him other than that, making a straight line for the king. Ignatius wanted to follow him to see what he said, but that would be too obvious. He kept moving. 

“I hope Hans gets here quickly,” some noble was saying to another, idly taking wine. “It’ll be good to have a proper monarch on the throne.” 

One of the people Stephan had been talking to—Ulrich Elderbyne, Ignatius recognized him—was coming his way, raising a finger in summons upon seeing that Ignatius has noticed him. Ignatius turned so he could take some of the wine. He’d been drinking a fair bit tonight, Ignatius had noticed. Maybe he’d take more than one glass.

There was a yelp and Ignatius turned his head just in time to see a boy dressed in loose clothes falling towards him, or maybe flying like he’d jumped or…Ignatius could have moved out of the way, or caught him or done a number of things, but all of them would have been out of keeping for a servant and so he let the boy crash into him, the platter of wine flying from his hand and falling mostly on the boy as they both fell to the ground. “Ow,” the boy said. A few of the cups had broken, but fortunately not on him. 

Remembering his role, Ignatius moved to help him stand. “I’m so very sorry, my lord. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the boy laughed, a twinkle in his eye. Lord Ulrich had gone somewhere else for wine. “It was my fault, but don’t tell anyone that, okay? I was showing off a little.” 

“Y-yes, my lord,” Ignatius said, noticing the other boys nearby. His friends, who had clearly egged him on. Ignatius remembered the time he’d jumped off a roof because Cyrus and Robin had egged him on. At least this kid was only covered in wine. “Still, we should dry you off…”

“Sure,” the boy said with a nod, watching something else. “But first my brother is going to come yell at me. You know why? Because brothers are the worst.”

Before Ignatius could reply to that, the brother in question, the king’s age, curly hair, pretty, came over and took the boy’s arm. “For crying out loud, Giacomo. I like to think I can leave you unsupervised.”

“Just having a little bit of fun.”

“You’re covered in wine. What were you even doing? I’ll handle him, you can go,” Giacomo’s brother said to Ignatius, before returning to rebuking Giacomo, who wasn’t even really paying attention to him. 

Ignatius took that as his cue to slip away, now that most people’s attention was on the two brothers. Flora had just managed to get out of the room, but Gus had been held up, sent to go find towels. 

Ignatius slipped out of the banquet hall, seeing the princess heading away. There was nobody around. “My princess,” he said, catching up with her. 

“What?” she asked, looking up. “I’m very tired, if someone’s looking for me, please tell them I’ll speak with them at the next…”

Ignatius got in front of her, knelt, and for just a moment he dropped his illusion spell. “My princess, I’m Ignatius. I’m…”

“Wizard Ronaldo’s apprentice,” Flora said, quietly. “You’re here to rescue me.”

“Your brother sent me,” Ignatius said quickly, heart racing. “He’s with Lady Cordelia and your younger brother Donovan.” 

“Good,” Flora said, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh. “Good. Okay. I can’t go with you yet, though. My companion…”

Ignatius nodded. “We can’t take you out of the castle today, it’s a trap—I’ll explain later, but don’t trust Jorge.” Something felt off to Ignatius. “I have to go. Be careful, my princess.” He stood, letting his illusion spell come back on. 

Flora nodded, smiling. “You too, Ignatius.” Gus was coming out of the banquet hall, hurrying to join them. He looked even more intense than usual with the heavy brow and darker eyes of his disguise. 

Giacomo came out of the room now too, still held by his brother, and Ignatius and Gus headed off up the hallway without saying anything. Something still felt funny. “Something feels wrong,” he muttered.

Gus nodded. 

Ignatius stopped just as they turned a corner. “Guards.”

“What?”

“Where were the guards who were supposed to be on the banquet doors?”

Gus looked at him for a second, then both of them turned and started to run back to where they’d left Flora. Before she came into their sight a scream filled the hall. “Shit,” Ignatius hissed, running faster.

Three armed men were standing there, and Flora was on the floor, her arm bleeding. They’d come out of a room opposite the hall. Ignatius raised his hand, preparing to use magic, when Giacomo’s brother was suddenly there, in between Flora and the knife and then he was on the ground. “Geoffrey!”

Ignatius flicked his wrist and the three attackers flew backwards, slamming into the wall with more force than he’d intended, as Giacomo ran to his brother’s side. “Are you okay?” Ignatius asked, checking Flora. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Flora waved him off. “Go, before they catch you.”

“Yeah…” Ignatius started to get up and stopped, looking at the wound Geoffrey had taken. He was going to die in a few seconds if someone didn’t…

“Ignatius,” Gus said, pulling. “Come on.”

Ignatius shook his head, reaching out, magic still at the ready. He had to help. He had to help Geoffrey or else he’d die. He had to help Geoffrey or else he’d die, and he’d just saved the princess. Ignatius’s power could be used to help. He used Fire and the fifth element, turned them into a circle, and touched Geoffrey’s shoulder with a healing spell. 

Giacomo looked up at Ignatius as Geoffrey’s injury healed over. “I have brothers too,” Ignatius whispered. “They are kind of worst, aren’t they? No end of trouble.”

He let Gus pull him to his feet. “My princess…”

Flora shook her head, cradling her cut arm. “Go. Now.” 

It wasn’t safe for her here—someone had literally just tired to kill her! But before Ignatius could say that he realized she was right. He’d never get her out of the castle like this. Guards were going to be everywhere. It was going to be everything he and Gus could do not to get caught as it was.

So instead Ignatius quickly cast the quietest protection spell he could, over all three of them because precision and speed weren’t friends. Then he held a finger to his lips for silence, and he turned with Gus and ran as the banquet hall doors tore open and people started to pour out. What had taken them so long?

“I don’t know if we can get out of the castle,” Gus panted as they ran. “They’re going to lock it down.”

“There are rooms we can hide in,” Ignatius said. He’d been to the castle a bunch of times. “We don’t have much time, Gus. We can’t leave her for long.”

“We won’t,” Gus promised. “We won’t, Ignatius. But we need to know what’s going on first.”

“Yeah.” Someone had tried to kill Flora just now. Who? And why?

It didn’t matter in the end. Ignatius was going to stop them and protect her like he’d been ordered to, no matter what.


	10. No Matter How Much You Prepare, it Always Seems Sudden When it's Time to Do what You Set out to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the big climax.

Gus was in the throne room when the bells started to ring. He’d gone to see the king conduct the trial for the man who’d been accused of the violence on the night of the banquet two nights ago, leaving Ignatius in the little room that they’d stolen in the palace. Ignatius had crafted an illusion over it to make the door invisible on the night of the banquet, and after the immediate clamour had died down, they’d decided it was better to stay there in hiding until they could get Flora and leave. It would save them having to break into the castle when they were ready.

But when he’d gone out to snatch some food for them to eat, Gus had heard about the trial earlier this morning, and he’d come out to watch it, slipping into the throne room disguised as a servant again. The noble boy Ignatius had helped was one of Stephan’s advisors, and another of them had been killed, the third one on trial for both attacks. Depending on how the trial went, it might create a good opportunity for them to get Flora tonight. 

It would be easy to make sure that Stephan’s death was blamed on supporters of this Lord Ulrich if it came to that. 

But partway through the trial, in which Lord Ulrich had managed to cast blame for the attacks onto Jorge—who, it turned out, had told everyone that he knew there were going to be people in hiding at the banquet, which meant he’d sold them out—alarm bells had started to ring. 

All the nobility who’d been at the banquet and then some were here in the throne room, a long, pillared room with huge chandeliers hanging ornately above them, the throne tall against the back wall on a one-step dais. Everyone was panicking suddenly, turning and talking to one another as if that would solve the mystery of why the bells were ringing. Gus slid closer to the doors.

They opened before he’d gotten a few steps, a guard hurrying in. He looked terrified to Gus, who saw him clearly from only a few feet away. “My king! The gates! An army—Lord Hans’s army is here!”

The panicked seem to get louder, and Stephan nearly shouted. “That’s impossible.”

He wasn’t wrong—Hans’s army was by all accounts still halfway across the country. There was no way he could have gotten this far that quickly. 

On the dais, Jorge was laughing, hands raised as he approached Stephan, guards moving to intercept them. He was a wizard though, even if Ignatius said he was a bad one. “You were supposed to be dead when he got here,” Jorge said, probably trying to sound ominous or threatening, but actually just sounding stupid. “But there’s still time.”

Fire erupted from his hands, aimed at the king—and at Flora, who was on the dais with them. Hans was at the gates. If Stephan died now, even if Jorge didn’t kill Flora, it would be impossible to get to her before Hans got here. 

Gus swallowed, letting power snake out from the length of fine chain in his pocket and slide across the room, under everyone’s feet, clamping over Jorge’s and putting the fire out. He lifted Jorge up and then tossed him back into the wall beside the throne, knocking him out. Ignatius was right, he wasn’t very powerful. 

Gus couldn’t stay here, just in case. He slid towards the door, unnoticed. A lot of people were trying to leave now. 

“Sound the call to arms. Gather the soldiers,” Lord Ulrich was calling, still in chains. “If Hans had inside help, the gates are likely open. We’ll fight him all the way to the castle. We will not allow him to harm the king!”

He sounded like he meant that. Gus had a feeling it wasn’t going to matter. He left the throne room. If the castle was going onto alert, they’d send Flora back to her rooms so she wouldn’t be in the way. And they’d be looking for people trying to get in, not people trying to get out. Gus hurried back, down a level and to the east wing of the castle, hand on the wall as he turned into the hallway they were staying in. He felt the doorframe when he touched it and knocked. 

Ignatius opened the door immediately and Gus rushed in. Gus had told him to be more cautious, but he didn’t listen. He hugged Gus. “Oh, God,” he said, sounding frightened. Gus hugged him back. “What happened? Why are the bells ringing?” 

“Hans’s army is here.” At Ignatius’s frown, Gus nodded. “Jorge was working with him after all. He tried to kill Stephan—the guards took him away.” 

“You stopped him.” 

“Flora was on the dais.”

Ignatius nodded. “Okay. They’re probably going to take her to her room if Hans is here. And if he got here so fast, it has to be magic. He’ll get into the city. He’ll get into the castle.” 

“Lord Ulrich’s sure someone’s going to open the gates for him.” Gus sighed. “We have to rescue her now, or we’re not going to get another chance.” He headed past Ignatius, for the small table they had. A small table, a chair, a bed, a jug of water. That was all. The room was starting to smell like two people had been living in it for three days without washing. On the table were a set of keys, a metal necklace, a rusted gauntlet and a proper heavy chain. He’d brought them all with him just in case something happened at the banquet, sneaking them into the interior pockets of his borrowed uniform. He’d need them now. 

Ignatius watched Gus put his receptacles on or into his pockets, likely mentally preparing his power. “Okay,” he said, once Gus was ready. “Let’s go. We can do this. We just have to go get her and leave. I think it’s better if we try to stay hidden—avoid fighting if we can. Then…Hans will kill Stephan when he gets here. He definitely will. That’s what…that’s what he’ll do when he gets here, it’s the first thing he’ll do. It’s the thing you do when you’re unseating a usurper. A king, a…he’s definitely going to kill Stephan.” His expression hardened more and more as he rambled and Gus let him for a second. It made him feel better. 

“Yeah,” Gus said. “He will.” So they didn’t have to. So Ignatius didn’t have to. “You’re right. We can focus on rescuing Flora.” 

“Good.” Ignatius smiled a little. He looked so relieved. The order to kill Stephan had been weighing on him so much. “Okay. Let’s go.” 

“Yeah. We’re going to need to split up,” Gus said, as they approached the door. 

“What?” 

“There are going to be people everywhere.” This was the right thing to do. Gus had realized it just now while Ignatius had been rambling. “No matter how many of them we hide from, eventually we’re going to have to get Flora out of the castle. You need a clear path to get her to the servants’ door we used to get in.” 

“But you…”

“I’ll make a distraction for you,” Gus said. “On the other end of the castle.” They’d snuck around a few times at night while they’d been here, so they knew where Flora’s room was. 

“But…” Ignatius sounded lost suddenly. But Gus was right and he knew it. “No, Gus.” 

“It’s the only way to make sure we don’t end up surrounded by guards and being chased out of the castle,” Gus told him firmly. “You need to be able to get out without people seeing you.”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

Gus looked down. Ignatius hardly ever raised his voice like that. “I’ll be fine. Wait for me at the inn—if they come looking for you before I get there, leave town and wait for me at the place we stayed the night before we got to town.” He sighed. “If this goes properly, I’ll be there when you get to the doors, Iggy.”

“Don’t…” Ignatius frowned, stepping back. “That’s not fair. Don’t call me that when I’m disagreeing with you, you know better than that.” 

Gus did. “Sorry,” he said, feeling bad. That had been an accident. “I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t trying to manipulate you.” 

“I know.” Ignatius hugged himself. “And I know you’re right, too. I just…what if something happens?”

“You’ll be fine. You’re the most competent person I know, Ignatius.” 

“What if something happens to _you_?”

“I’m the most competent person you know,” Gus said with a smile. That wasn’t what Ignatius was really worried about.

He was quiet, the bells filling the air. Flora would be back in her room by now. “What if my power…”

“It won’t.”

“But if I’m on my own, if you’re not there to…”

Gus took Ignatius’s hand. “It’s not fair to slap you right now but I kind of want to. If you lost control of your powers I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”

“But…” Ignatius closed his eyes. “But I wouldn’t if you were around. I don’t want to hurt you, so…”

“You don’t want to hurt anyone, Ignatius.” 

Ignatius opened his eyes, looked at Gus. He was so fucking pretty. “That’s not the same.”

“Yes, it is. You’ve done everything you can to make sure you don’t hurt anyone while we’re here. So don’t fucking lose control of your powers and you won’t. Okay?” Fair or not, Ignatius responded well to being given orders. 

Sure enough, he nodded, though clearly uncertain. “Okay,” he whispered.

“Good. Now let’s go. We only have one shot at this.”

Ignatius nodded again, but held Gus’s wrist before he opened the door. “Can you smack me?”

“Ignatius.”

“Please, just one. To calm me down.”

Gus looked at him for a second, at how determined he looked. He sighed. And before Ignatius could release him, Gus reached up with his free hand and smacked him across the face as hard as he could, turning his head. “Better?”

“Better,” Ignatius agreed, rubbing his cheek, a smile on his face. “We’ll have to go back to being normal now. There’re going to be other people.”

“Yeah. I liked not having to be normal.” 

“Me too. Once I’m not an apprentice and I move out of Ronaldo’s care, you’ll come with me, right?”

Gus smiled, kissed his cheek where he’d smacked it. “Ignatius, once you move out of Ronaldo’s, I’m going to marry you.” 

He hadn’t meant to say that. It wasn’t something he’d actively planned or anything. But there it was, and it was true and Gus meant it more than he’d meant anything else. And Ignatius smiled. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Okay, maybe _that_ he’d meant more than he’d ever meant anything else. 

Ignatius took a deep breath, still smiling. He looked lighter. “Okay. Let’s go rescue the princess.” 

Gus nodded and opened the door, the two of them heading out into the hallway, the bells still ringing. They hurried down the hallway and then split up, Ignatius heading for the princess’s room to fulfill their mission. 

And once he was gone, Gus headed back to the throne room to create their distraction.


	11. The Thing about Being Afraid of Yourself Is that Sometimes You Should Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignatius learns a few things, and does a few things.

Ignatius was alone.

He wasn’t, in the strictest sense. There were people around, guards and servants and nobles and lots of people, all going this way or that as if going somewhere would stop the bells from ringing, stop Hans from getting closer to the castle, stop them from being captured. 

All the nobility in Kyaine had come to Hawk’s Roost for the banquet. And all of them had come back to the castle for Ulrich Elderbyne’s trial. And now all of them were going to be in the castle when Hans got here and crowned himself king. They were already hostages and Ignatius figured they probably knew it. 

Hans probably wouldn’t hurt them. He needed people to support him, after all. Stephan hadn’t hurt them.

Ignatius was alone, but he was surrounded by people. 

Potential victims. If he lost control of his powers he’d kill them all or do something just as horrible. He could level this castle with a thought. He could turn Hawk’s Roost into an anthill if he sneezed. He could end the whole issue over who was going to sit on the throne by turning the throne and everyone who might sit on it into trees, and he could do it entirely by accident. 

_So don’t fucking lose control of your powers and you won’t._ It wasn’t as simple as that. Ignatius’s power was too big for one person to control. It was too strong for one person to hold in. That was what Ignatius understood that Ronaldo and Gus never had. That was why being alone was dangerous—not for him, but for everyone else. But now he was alone. 

Ignatius was alone, but he was surrounded by people who he’d kill if he wasn’t careful. 

So he moved quickly but carefully through the castle, knowing he didn’t have much time. Gus would time his distraction to fall just before Ignatius rescued the princess, so he couldn’t waste time. 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. He was just a servant moving through the castle, so nobody questioned him. Ignatius and Gus had traced the path to Flora’s rooms on their first day after the banquet, so he knew where to go—it helped that he’d been in the castle before as well. It was an easy place to get lost in for those unfamiliar—intentionally so. But it wasn’t an issue for Ignatius, who had no trouble navigating complex spaces. His training had to come in handy somehow. 

So soon he was at Flora’s door, which hard two guards on it. Ignatius slowed down, taking a breath. Just control his power. He could do this. He’d done it the other night. He walked normally as if he were supposed to be in this hallway, and when he was between the two guards, he waved a hand, mostly pulling Air, and tossed the two guards into the far wall with the unnecessary gesture. 

Ignatius let out a breath. “Okay,” he said. So far, so good. He opened Flora’s door.

She was standing there, a goblet in hand as if to strike someone. Ignatius smiled at her. “Hello, my princess,” he said, glancing at the other little girl with her, with short-cut hair and a mole on her neck. Her companion. “It’s time to go.” 

Flora nodded. She grabbed a small pack off the table. “Okay, let’s go. Dorothy, this is Ignatius.” 

“Nice to meet you, sir.” 

Ignatius smiled at her. “No need for that. Let’s get out of here, but first I’m going to put an illusion spell over both of you, just in case. Can you hold still?” 

They did, and Ignatius put a strong illusion over both of them. It had to map roughly onto the bodies they had, so he couldn’t make them both into adults who nobody would look twice at, unfortunately. But he made Dorothy look younger than she was, changing her appearance to make her rounder, just slightly shorter, hair in curls that hid a lot of her face. Flora he made into a slightly older boy of about ten, similar enough to Dorothy that they could be siblings who he was escorting somewhere. 

“There,” he said to them. “Try not to talk unless you have to. But there are a lot of nobility in the castle, people will just assume you’re someone’s children.” 

As he said that, the castle shook. “What was that?” Flora demanded, shouldering her bag again. 

“An attack,” Ignatius said, feeling outwards, trying to sense where the magic had come from. The southeast, Procession Boulevard. “Hans must be planning to weaken the castle’s defences with magic before he gets here. He has wizards with him.”

But the power that had attacked the castle wasn’t a wizard’s power. It was something else, something virulent that Ignatius didn’t recognize. And when he felt it coming again, he reached out as far as he could and blocked it, stopping it from hitting the castle a second time. It his harder than he thought and he staggered, but held it off, pushing his power into it. 

“Let’s go,” he said, once the attack had broken off. It would come again. He hoped Gus was okay. 

“Where’s your friend?” Flora asked as they stepped out into the hallway, not seeming to notice the guards. Ignatius carefully floated them into the room and shut the door, putting a seal on it that would keep them in there for a few hours. 

“He’s creating a distraction so we can get out of the castle.”

“I think Hans is enough of a distraction, don’t you?”

“Yes, but he’s doing it anyway, just to be safe.” 

He hoped that whatever had attacked the castle didn’t find Gus. Ignatius didn’t want to think too hard about what Gus was off doing, because if he did he’d know what Gus was doing and he was enough of a coward to shy away from that. So instead he worried that Gus was going to end up fighting with whatever force was assailing the castle. 

Gus had confidence in him, though. Ignatius would have confidence in Gus. He’d be fine. 

“Come on,” Ignatius said, leading them off down the hallway. He and Gus had already decided they’d leave through the same door they’d come in through. Nobody blocked off the servants’ entrance. 

The force attacking the castle had rounded again, and this time Ignatius struck out at it, keeping it away before it could attack. It was hovering around the city, now that Ignatius had his mind on it. It was with Hans’s army for sure. But it wasn’t any kind of magic he was familiar with, including sorcery, which was what he’d have expected from Hans if he was allied with the Sorcerer King. It was something slimy, putrid even. Something that smelled like rot to Ignatius whenever his power touched it. 

And it was getting more aggressive, attacking more frequently. Drawn, Ignatius realized too late, by his own power, which it had to realize was a threat. The thing started to pound at him relentlessly, attacking over and over, and though Ignatius could keep it at bay, it started to require more and more of his concentration. 

“What’s wrong?” Flora asked as they walked, holding Dorothy by the hand. “You look worried.” 

“Something’s attacking the castle with magic,” Ignatius said. There was no point in lying. “Something allied with Hans. I’m trying to keep it at bay.” 

“From here?” Dorothy asked quietly. “I don’t see you doing anything.” 

“Magic doesn’t always look like something,” Ignatius said. “Sometimes the whole point is to make sure it _doesn’t_ end up looking like something.” 

“Who’s attacking us?” Flora asked, trying not to sound nervous. She had a lot of grace for an eight-year-old girl. “Hans had wizards with him, and he’s allied with the Sorcerer King now.” 

Ignatius nodded. “It’s not a wizard or a sorcerer. I don’t think…I don’t want to scare you.” 

“Tell me,” she ordered.

Ignatius sighed, batting off another attack. “I don’t think it’s human,” he admitted. Sorcerers were known for forming contracts with demons. It might well be that Ignatius was fighting a demon. 

Dorothy made a distressed sound, but Flora nodded. “We’d better go, then.” 

“You’re very calm,” Ignatius said, wishing he could be that calm. 

Flora smiled. “I could cry and cower if you like. But I’d rather save that for after we’re out of the castle.”

“I guess so.” 

“Ignatius, I had to watch my family be murdered and then live with their killer. I wish I had the luxury of being scared, but I don’t. I need to get out of here before my uncle tries to use me as a puppet. Can we please go?” 

Ignatius blinked, her firmness lending him some. She wasn’t what he’d expected. He’d expected her to be…well, in distress. “Yes, my princess. Let’s go.” 

So they went, Ignatius leading them through the labyrinthine halls of the palace. “We’re headed for one of the servants’ entrances,” he said, to distract himself as he talked. He didn’t want to be _too_ distracted, but a little wouldn’t hurt. The demon was still attacking him metaphysically, but he could handle it. It gave him something else to focus on, lest he get lulled into a false security with the tenor of its attacks. 

He was going to have to fight this thing off properly eventually—Ignatius couldn’t leave it to kill everyone else in the castle—but he wasn’t worried. For all that it was a demon, it didn’t feel that powerful. Or at least it didn’t feel that powerful compared to what Ignatius knew he could do. He’d be able to…

It came in harder, faster than he’d expected, and the castle shook again. Ignatius could feel that toxic thing trying to penetrate into the castle and he fought it back, not realizing he’d leaned against the wall until he’d pushed it back. Flora was watching him. 

Ignatius just nodded, waving them to follow again, vaguely aware that he’d left cracks in the wall. 

There were fewer people about than there had been, most of them having returned to their rooms or found somewhere to hide until the fighting was over. That was good, nobody impeded them, and the few people they saw didn’t give the three of them a second look. Servants headed for the servants’ entrance weren’t that uncommon. 

They got there unmolested, and Ignatius breathed a sigh of relief, before looking around and realizing Gus wasn’t there. He’d warned Ignatius that might happen. “Okay,” he said. “We just have to head to the inn I was staying at and we’ll…”

A line of fire shot at Ignatius as nearly hit him in the head, disappearing into motes of blue light not because Ignatius asked it to, but because he saw it at felt a flash of fear. 

He turned, instinctively moving Flora and Dorothy behind him. Jorge was standing there, down the hall, a wild look in his eyes. The demon was attacking again and Ignatius repelled it. “I don’t have time for you,” he said. 

Jorge smiled, an animalistic snarl. “Make time, you worthless apprentice. You ruined my plan by not showing up at the banquet.” 

“Your plan to have me arrested?” Ignatius asked, pushing Flora and Dorothy through the door. 

“My plan to use your distraction to kill the usurper!” Jorge proclaimed, holding out his hand. Another weak bolt of fire flew at Ignatius, and this time Ignatius was calmer, just pushing it aside. “But I shall make up for it by delivering you to King Hans and ensuring that you and your spies don’t escape!” 

He didn’t know that the children were Flora and Dorothy. He didn’t seem to know…anything. He really wasn’t anyone. Ignatius almost felt bad for him. “If you’d just let me do what I was here to do, I’d have killed him for you,” he said quietly. “You interfering saved me from having to do that.” 

“What? It doesn’t matter. It’s time for you to go to sleep, boy.” Jorge lashed out his hands, a ripple of Wind coming for Ignatius, mixed with the fifth element. A sleep spell, a strongish one. 

Ignatius dissipated it easily, overpowering Jorge with a thought. “I’m leaving now,” he said, picking Jorge up to slam him into the wall as he had with the guards. 

And stopping suddenly, the demon’s assault on him intensifying to the degree that Ignatius couldn’t focus on anything else for a second, had to drop Jorge. He had to direct his whole attention to stopping it before it destroyed the castle, and even then, the walls around him blossomed with cracks, plaster dust falling from the ceiling. 

And it kept up this time, instead of being repelled the pressure on Ignatius’s mind just held, just kept pressing, and pressing, forcing Ignatius to push back, giving him no choice but to use more and more of his power, more and more of his concentration, to keep it away, and it was so much, so much more than it had been earlier. 

Ignatius was barely aware of Jorge anymore, of anyone but himself that that poisonous, polluting presence in the air around him, like a billion insects trying to crawl into his ears at once. But Jorge stood up, taking advantage of Ignatius being on the floor, and he said something that Ignatius didn’t hear and used more magic, so small that Ignatius barely noticed it in the middle of everything else, shooting something out of his hands and…

Ignatius stopped it without effort, but the brief distraction was too much. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t use all the power he had to in keeping the demon at bay, focus on controlling himself and spend even a fraction of a second thinking about Jorge. In the exchange, his control vanished. 

His power ran wild, coruscating off him in pulses that rhymed with the universe. The castle stopped shaking but started to disintegrate around him, and Flora cried out and pulled Dorothy away, and Jorge fell over. 

The sky above Ignatius wavered, turning sideways, and the ground under his feet wailed as it was involuted by the incandescent bitterness that flitted across Ignatius’s vision. _No_ , Ignatius thought, as he felt himself swell outwards. It was happening again. His power was too much, it was too big, it was too…it was out of control and it was going to kill everyone around him. The power of that demon was retreating, recoiling, trying to avoid whatever Ignatius was about to unleash, but there was no avoiding it. 

This was why. This was why Ignatius couldn’t be alone. This was why Ignatius couldn’t be alone without someone to make sure he didn’t lose control. Because Ignatius had the power to create a local apocalypse. 

Everything around him was collapsing, reforming, changing, disappearing, appearing. Everything around him was being destroyed and Ignatius wasn’t going to be able to stop it. He couldn’t, he’d never been able to, he couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t, he was going to hurt everyone, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone, he didn’t want to hurt…

_So don’t fucking lose control of your powers and you won’t._

Gus’s voice, Gus’s order, rang through Ignatius’s head. He couldn’t follow that. He couldn’t follow that order. He couldn’t follow that order, it was impossible. 

Why was it impossible? It was his power, why couldn’t Ignatius control it like other people did? Why couldn’t he? What was wrong with him that he couldn’t…

The castle wall collapsed, the ground shaking, and huge slabs of rock and glass and brick fell, preparing to land on him, on Jorge, on Dorothy, on Flora. On Flora, who he’d come here to save. “No…”

Everything stopped, Ignatius’s power lashing out and freezing not only the rocks but _everything,_ all of them but him. The world was just suspended in place. For an endless moment, nothing happened. 

And that…was exactly what Ignatius needed. He needed a moment of nothing happening, of emptiness so he could just think for a moment. And he’d been given that. He’d…

He’d given himself that. His power wasn’t alive. It was something he had, something he did. Ignatius knew that. It wasn’t a force outside of himself. It wasn’t that it couldn’t be controlled, it was that he couldn’t be controlled. 

But…

But Ignatius had needed the rocks to stop falling and they had. 

As a kid, he’d needed people to leave him alone and they had. He’d needed quiet and he’d gotten it. He’d needed to be alone and he had been. He’d…he’d always used his power to get what he needed. Just not always intentionally. Not always realizing what he’d needed. Right now he’d needed it to overpower the demon and that was what it had done. 

Ignatius could control his power. He just needed to pay more attention to what he needed it for. 

_Sneaky little shit, aren’t you?_ something chitinous asked. _Freezing time. Good thing not all of us exist in a straight line._

“What…” 

A revulsion attacked him, something that surrounded him and wriggled, making the world wobble just a little to the right, filling Ignatius’s nose with a pungent rot that threatened to bowl him completely over. Ignatius had never encountered anything this powerful, this big. 

Except, that was, for himself. Ignatius reached with all his might, pushed the fetid power back, letting out a scream that didn’t carry in the frozen air as Ignatius drew, for the first time in his life, upon all the power at his disposal. 

With what felt like a howl, the demon’s power was blown entirely away, retreating to somewhere distant. Ignatius could still feel it and pursued it—he wasn’t going to let the monster attack the castle after he’d left. And so he chased down the demon’s power and wiped it away everywhere he found it, transforming it into harmless vapour. It was in the city, in Hans’s army and elsewhere, and everywhere he found it Ignatius turned it into nothing. 

Satisfied that he couldn’t feel the demon anywhere in the city, Ignatius took a breath. Now he had to stop all this, reign in his power. That was always the part he hadn’t been able to do. If he couldn’t, would he just stay here, in the world where nothing was moving, forever. 

Forever. 

Forever, alone. 

Forever, alone, without Gus. 

No. Ignatius refused that. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t live like that.

Ignatius reached himself out, then pulled back in. _I’m done_ , he thought, firmly taking his own power, part of himself, and restraining it, putting it back where it belonged. Everything started to move again, the rocks starting to fall.

With a gesture, Ignatius changed them, turned them into their weight in glowing butterflies of light. And then he let go. 

Everything came back at once, sound, movement, the world. A swarm of butterflies erupted into the sky, and all four of them, Jorge included, watched them go, flying in circles, covering all of Hawk’s Roost, blotting out the sun and providing more light. 

“What did you do?” Flora asked quietly. 

“Nothing hard.” Ignatius looked at Jorge. “We’re going to leave now. Tell your friends not to follow us.” 

“You…” 

Ignatius turned, took Flora and Dorothy, and headed for the gate. “Let’s go.”

“What happened all of the sudden?” Flora asked. “You seem different suddenly.” 

“I just realized something important, my princess, that’s all,” Ignatius said, his scalp itching. He reached up and scratched at it. 

“What?” 

There was hair there, just a little. He could feel it growing back. Ignatius smiled. “Just that there’s nothing to be afraid of.” 

And he led the princess out of the castle and into the city, to wait for Gus. He’d done it.


	12. It's Not Uncommon for A Wizard's Apprentice to Be Burdened with A Terrible Destiny, but A Steadfast Partner Will Always Be There to Help Him Through It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are in the last chapter of about a wizard saving a princess--which also happens to be chapter 600 of the overall series! I hope you guys all enjoyed Ignatius and Gus's adventures, and if you did, don't worry, they'll definitely be showing up again in other stories in the series. :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading all this way! As always, I'm blessed to have all you guys. Enjoy!

Gus couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here. 

He’d gone to the throne room, fully intending to kill Stephan in as visible and obvious a way as he could to create Ignatius’s distraction. He was going to die anyway, there was no reason why Gus couldn’t use it to their advantage. And then the boy who’d collided with Ignatius at the banquet, Giacomo, had shown up, to kill the usurper himself, and… everything after that was a bit of a blur. 

Hans’s forces had attacked the castle with magic. Gus had gone to fight them off, to give Ignatius time to get Flora out of the castle. It was all a bit hazy, but he remembered that. Maybe he’d hit his head or something. Or maybe he was overusing his magic. That was a danger with necromancy, but as long as he was drawing from his receptacles, it should be fine. 

Half of his receptacles were empty. He’d been using a lot more magic than he’d realized. Gus didn’t normally have that problem. He was pretty careful. He had to be, it was how to avoid being caught. It was one of the first things Jocelyn had taught him when she’d been teaching him how to murder people. 

Gus tried not to think about her, but it was hard not to when he was killing people, and the power he was unleashing against Hans’s forces was definitely killing people. Better him than Ignatius, he thought. He knew Ignatius had escaped, at least. There were butterflies of light everywhere, and that was Ignatius’s doing as sure as if he’d written his name in the sky.

A horn blew, and Giacomo looked up. “That’s a retreat,” he said to Gus. Gus couldn’t exactly remember why they were together, but they were. “It’s going to be Lord Ulrich pulling into the castle.” 

“If you open the gates, I don’t think Hans will let you close them again,” Gus warned. It didn’t overly matter to him whether or not Hans took the castle. He was going to anyway. 

Giacomo smiled. “I know. But I can’t very well leave my dear ally out there to die, can I?”

He’d been about to kill the king earlier. Probably he _had_ killed the king, Gus didn’t remember. “It’s your call. I’m going to leave when the gate’s open. You can come with me if you want. I’ll keep you safe.” 

Giacomo shook his head. “I’ll be fine. My brother’s still sleeping in the castle. I can’t leave him alone. But thank you.” 

“Hans will kill you,” Gus warned. 

“I don’t think he will. Don’t worry about me.” 

Gus sighed. “You’re too young to have blood on your hands.” It was frightening. 

Giacomo shrugged. “I’m not your responsibility.” 

“You’re not,” Gus agreed. “But I was your age when I first killed someone and it’s awful.” He’d been younger than Giacomo, probably. 

“You’re not noble,” Giacomo said quietly. “I don’t mean that as a slight. But you don’t understand how important protecting my house is. I’ll do anything. I’m going to have the gate opened now.” 

There was clearly no convincing him. Gus felt bad, but he had his own people to protect. “Okay. Be careful, Giacomo.” 

“You too, Gus. Thank you for your help.” 

Gus nodded, and Giacomo ran off, calling for the gates to be opened. They were, and soldiers started to rush in, Lord Ulrich guarding their retreat. Gus cast a simple glamour over himself and snuck past them, out of the gates. 

As he did, he turned back briefly and saw Giacomo helping Ulrich down from his horse. And pulling out a knife, stabbing him in the thigh. Ulrich fell. Giacomo’s expression was stony. Gus turned away and headed out into the city, sneaking off Procession Boulevard and onto a side road just as soon as he could. Hans’s soldiers were everywhere, and the city was pockmarked with what had obviously been explosions from attacks. Gus’s attacks. 

Buying Ignatius time to escape had deeply damaged the city that Gus loved so much. 

But cities could be rebuilt and Gus wasn’t going to be able to live here for the next little while anyway. He had to find Ignatius, get them all out of the city and get back up to Three Hills. Fortunately, Ignatius was making that first step easy for him. Across town, north and a little east of Gus, he could feel Ignatius’s power striking back and forth, with precision. He must have encountered some of Hans’s soldiers.

He’d be fine, but Gus hurried anyway. Hawk’s Roost was a big city. He let his glamour drop and hurried north, ducking soldiers when he could. It wasn’t hard. There were dead lining the road all the way up to the castle, so many dead. Gus opened himself to them, the freshly dead, and sucked them in, pouring the power into his receptacles as he went. He ended up leaving a lot behind because he was moving quickly and siphoning power took a few minutes, especially when there was so much of it, but there were so many dead that within twenty minutes he’d completely refilled the heavy chain. 

Hopefully it was enough to keep the city from getting too haunted. It should be; cities were always a little bit haunted but it hardly ever got to be a problem because there were so many living people everywhere that nobody ever noticed. 

“Halt!” 

Gus looked up, saw a squadron of soldiers with crossbows aimed at him. He held up his hands. “Why?”

“The city’s locked down. Go home.” 

Gus smiled, breathing out. “I am.” 

The soldiers collapsed, sleeping. Gus could have killed them, but why? That would be doing what Jocelyn had taught him to do. He only killed when he had to. And he’d done it more than enough today. 

All she’d wanted from him was a killer, someone who could harvest necromantic power for her to be used as a weapon. When he’d first met her he’d thought he was saved, thought he’d found someone who understood his power and would take care of him. He’d been right, but her taking care of him hadn’t been what he’d wanted. It had been predicated on him becoming a killer. 

She’d only ever been with him for a few weeks at a time before giving him instructions, tasks, locations, and telling him she’d find him again. It had been easy to run away from her. It had been harder to get her out of his head, to stop fearing that she’d find him. To stop collecting power in case he ever had to fight her. 

Gus kept putting guards to sleep as he moved through the city, getting closer and closer to Ignatius. And once Ignatius was about a mile away, the soldiers he ran into changed. Or rather, their clothes changed. 

To be specific, suddenly every soldier-like person Gus encountered was wearing their skin and nothing else and moving as swiftly as they could in the opposite direction. Gus smiled. At least he didn’t need to be worried about Ignatius. Not that he had been anyway, but it was hard not to have the errant thought.

Three or four squads of naked soldiers later, he came across a commotion in the street, and there was his boy, with two kids behind him, facing down a squad of four soldiers. “Kid, you’re coming with us, no tricks.” 

“Tricks?” Ignatius asked, waving a hand. Their clothes turned into motes of light that grew wings and flittered away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know, it’s too cold to be dressed like that and there are kids present, guys.” 

Suddenly without weapons or armour, the soldiers seemed less excited to attack Ignatius. “Fuck, get him!” the one in charge called, moving forward with a punch. 

Before Ignatius could move, Gus pulled the man backwards, turning him around in front of him. He smiled. “Nobody hits that boy but me,” he said, and kicked the guy in the balls. 

The others ran away without much hassle, and Gus crossed to Ignatius, who was still wearing his disguise. “Hey,” he said, holding out his arms. 

“God,” Ignatius cried, leaping into Gus’s arms. “There you are. I was…not worried, but wondering.” 

“I held off Hans for a while so you’d get away. Everything went smoothly?”

Ignatius smiled. “Yeah. I had to fight off a weird metaphysical demon and froze time for a while, but it’s fine now.” 

Gus almost laughed. He wasn’t sure whether Ignatius was joking or not. “Okay. Let’s get going. Is this the princess?” Behind Ignatius were a little girl and a boy of about eleven, but they were probably both also disguised because neither of them were visibly Flora. 

Ignatius nodded, indicating the boy, then the girl. “And this is Dorothy, her companion.” 

“We should go before more soldiers appear,” Flora said, crossing her arms. 

“She’s right,” Gus said. “Let’s get moving. Hans has taken the castle. Don’t worry, my princess, we’ll get you out safely.” 

Flora nodded, and the four of them got moving. “I’m glad you’re safe,” Gus said, taking Ignatius’s hand. “And you didn’t lose control.” Ignatius had been so worried that he would. Gus hadn’t been. 

“I did, for a minute,” Ignatius admitted, biting his lip. “But I got it back. I remembered what you said. And I realized that I’m more in control of myself than I thought.” 

That brought a smile to Gus’s face, and he leaned over and kissed Ignatius on the cheek. “Good. I’m so proud of you.” His pride filled him, not encompassed by the simple words. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Ignatius told him, walking a little closer. He still had his collar on and Gus caught a glimpse of it. It was innocuous enough that nobody was likely to comment. 

“I keep thinking that there’s going to be a big boss at the end of this,” Gus said as they walked. The gates were in sight, guarded. Ignatius waved a hand and the guards weren’t armed or clothed anymore. “Like right here. It’s where the big bad would normally be in a story about a wizard saving a princess.” 

Ignatius smiled, flicked a finger, and blew the gates of Hawk’s Roost open. The guards scattered. “This isn’t a normal story about a wizard saving a princess,” he said. “I told you, I already beat the big bad. We’re clear.” 

“God, you’re amazing,” Gus said, shaking his head.

“Only because I have you.” 

“Are you two going to flirt the whole way north?” Flora demanded as they left the city. 

Gus and Ignatius looked at each other, smiled. “Yes,” they both said. 

Normally this was where someone would say they’d fulfilled their destiny or something, but that hadn’t happened. Gus knew there was no way their destiny was already completed, not when he and Ignatius had their whole lives together after this. But with their quest completed, they left Hawk’s Roost behind and headed home.

Because home was where they were together.


End file.
